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“Hetty sat with drooping head and listened.” Page 175 



A Little Turning Aside 




BARBARA YECHTON 

Author of *']Ve Ten, or The Story of the Roses,*^ 
Lovable Crank, or more Lea<ves from the Roses,** 
Derick/' etc,, etc. 


With Utustrations by 

WILHELMINA AND JESSIE B, WALKER 


^PHILADELPHIA 

GEORGE W, JACOBS & CO, 

1898 


Copyright 1898 
By Lyda. Farringion Krause 
All rights reserved 


Wo COPIES RECEIVED. 



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This book 
is dedicated to 

George William Phillips 
and 

his <wife, Jane Elizabeth, 

in affectionate ackncHvledgment of a 
long and <vatued friendship 



CONTENTS 


Chapter 

Chapter 

Chapter 


Chapter 

Chapter 

Chapter 


Chapter 

Chapter 

Chapter 

Chapter 


Part I 


Work 


page 

I — Leaving Home 

. 

. . 1 1 

II — At the League . 

. 

31 

Ill — The Paris Prize 

. 

50 


Part II 


Strife 

I — A Bitter Disappointment 

71 

II — For Cara .... 

• 95 

Ill — In the Court-yard 

114 


Part III 


Victory 

I — A New Friend 

. 131 

II — Unusual Experiences . 

157 

Ill — On the Way Home 

. 176 

IV — “ May I Come ? ” 

203 





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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


9 

PAGE 

“ Hetty sat with drooping head, and listened ” 

Frontispiece 

“ She stood for a moment, looking at her aunt ” 23 

“ Leaning out of her little attic window ” . . 26 

“ Occupation WAS her one THOUGHT ” ... 36 

“‘That work is good,’ he remarked, ‘but you 

can DO MUCH BETTER ’ ” . . . . *41 

“She laid her head down wearily” . . . 6i 

“ ‘Oh, help me — SOMEBODY — QUICK ! QUICK ! ’ ” . 65 

“Dr. Dennis” ........ 72 

“ Outside the ANTIQUE DOORS ” .... 75 

“ ‘She did make a start— and alone,’ he said to 

himself” 103 

“ ‘ Cara, why have you been so good to me ? ’ ” . 1 12 

“Joie” ......... 118 

“ She did not know that two people had entered 

THE yard ” . . . . . . . .123 

“ Once UPON a TIME ” . . . . . *153 

“ ‘ My window-box ’ ” ...... 160 

“ ‘ I SHALL DO NOTHING OF THE KIND,’ SHE DECLARED, 

emphatically” ....... 191 

“ Dr. Dennis met the head nurse ” . . . 204 

“ ‘Oh, what A BEAUTIFUL, BEAUTIFUL WORLD ! ’ ” . 207 

“Good-bye” 220 



PART I 
Work 


— And sometimes count a failure 
as a 'Victory <won 


4 




A Little Turning Aside 


Chapter I 


Lea^bing Home 


r last the way was clear for Hetty Dray- 



^ ton to accomplish her great ambition — 
to go to New York to study art. Though she 
was barely eighteen, it seemed to the girl that 
she had been waiting years for this opportu- 
nity ; and now that it was within her grasp she 
told herself nothing should prevent her making 
use of it. 

Ever since she could remember, Hetty had 
drawn pictures ; on her slate, before the death 
of her parents, and in cheap blank books, which 
were provided for her, and since then, v/hen 
she had lived with great-uncle and aunt Slade, 
on pieces of wood, birch-bark, odd scraps of 


12 


cA Little Turning Aside 


paper, and anything else that she could utilize. 
For Uncle Hiram did not approve of art ; in 
fact, he had the lowest possible opinion of any 
one who was “ so dumb fulish ez to ondertake 
to make a livin’ outer drawin’ picturs.” In his 
estimation, it was “ a fool business, only fit to 
starve on.” And, as Aunt Drusilla never 
dreamed of differing from any opinion of her 
husband’s, she was one with him in this. The 
old couple, therefore, felt it a duty incumbent 
upon them rigidly to suppress all Hetty’s long- 
ings and ambitions. In this they were unani- 
mously supported — though Uncle Hiram 
needed no such support, being a law unto 
himself — by their neighbors and friends, who 
entirely disapproved of Hetty’s attempts at 
art, and did not hesitate to express their dis- 
approval in the plainest of language. 

So Hetty received encouragement from no 
one but Miss Fanshawe, who was the sister of 
the young clergyman in charge of the little 
village church. Miss Fanshawe had artistic 


Leaving Home 


13 


aspirations of her own, and very soon after she 
came to live in Pendleton these created a strong 
bond of sympathy between herself and Hetty, 
whom the villagers commonly designated as 
“ Slade’s queer young un.” 

Miss Fanshawe had studied at the Art 
Students’ League for a time, and she realized 
that there was ability of no mean order — perhaps 
genius — in Hetty’s drawings, crude though they 
were. She it was, who, when she could, gave 
a drawing-book or a crayon, and made time 
from her many duties for the instruction and 
criticism which were of even more value to the 
young artist. 

Fortunately for Hetty, the “parson” and 
his sister were favorites with Uncle Hiram, so, 
though it went “ter’bly ag’in the grain,” her 
weekly, sometimes fortnightly, visits to the rec- 
tory were not forbidden. But the old man 
absolutely, and once for all, refused to hear one 
word of Hetty’s going to the city to receive 
instruction. “I’ve sot my foot down ag’in it. 


H 


cA Little Turning Aside 


an’ I’m a-goin’ to keep it thar,” he declared, 
sternly ; and there was no gainsaying this 
decision. 

Therefore, with each lesson that Miss Fan- 
shawe gave, she preached patience. “ Keep 
on bravely, Hetty,” she would say, kindly^ 
“and put of your very best into your work, a 
way may yet open up for you to study your 
beloved art. Only be patient, dear, and in the 
‘ waiting time ’ try to do cheerfully and well 
the duty that lies right at your hand.” 

But that was just what Hetty thought she 
could not do. She hated her daily tasks about 
the house, and begrudged every moment spent 
in service for her aunt and uncle, resenting, 
with a sullen defiance, their persistent efforts 
to overcome her passion for drawing — efforts 
which but intensified this great longing, until it 
became the dominating power of her life. 

Hetty had come to Pendleton a bright-eyed, 
eager, beautiful child, with the most implicit 
confidence in the love and good-will of her 


Leaving Home 


15 


fellow-creatures ; with a daintiness of speech 
and breeding which Aunt Drusilla speedily 
classified as “airs,” and a temper that was 
exceedingly short. Very soon the Pendleton 
verdict was that Hetty was bad-tempered, wil- 
ful and saucy — “spiled to death,” and she 
came to be regarded as the “ cross ” which it 
had fallen to Hiram Slade and his wife to carry. 
A few — a very few — discovered that the little 
stranger had a tender, loving heart, and, some- 
times, a sweetness of manner which made 
amends for much. 

These last qualities, however, had not 
grown and flourished in the new home atmos- 
phere — there was nothing tender or sweet 
about Hetty now. 

Like the majority of people who have no 
children, Mr. and Mrs. Slade had strong 
theories as to the rearing of a family, which 
they immediately proceeded to exemplify by 
Hetty. That the result was not according to 
their expectation was to them a surprise and 


i6 


c/l Little Turning Aside 


bitter disappointment — the fault could not be 
theirs, therefore it must lie with the young 
creature entrusted to their care. 

In those nine years an unlovely expression 
had settled on Hetty’s face, which marred its 
beauty ; she had grown morose, self-centred, 
and so morbid that she regarded everything 
that happened in but one light — as it affected 
herself An aggressive independence of man- 
ner had succeeded the sweetness of old. She 
chafed restlessly under the poverty which 
forced her to stay where she was — she had not 
a penny of her own — and performed her com- 
mon daily tasks with a dogged reluctance and 
an ungraciousness that exasperated the old 
couple, and called upon her many a sharp 
reproof But these seemed only to harden 
Hetty ; she withdrew entirely from the young 
people of the village, and brooded continually 
over her own dismal lot. How she hated the 
dull, narrow routine of her life ! How often, in 
her little attic room, she stormed and raged, 


Leaving Home 


17 


declaring in her fierce impatience and youthful 
exaggeration that no other girl ever had so 
hard and bare an existence. 

And then, in less than one short week, all 
had changed — stern, domineering Uncle Hiram 
lay in the quiet churchyard ; and Hetty con- 
sidered herself free to plan her future as she 
pleased ! 

It was while Aunt Drusilla was still dazed 
with the shock of her sudden loss, that Hetty 
brought up the subject of going to New York 
to study. She had been dreadfully afraid of 
Uncle Hiram — but he was gone now, and this, 
she told herself, was her opportunity — she must 
seize it. 

“ Let me go. Aunt Drusie, please, ah ! 
please let me go,” she pleaded, eagerly, her 
lips quivering, her fingers twisting nervously 
together. “ Give me some money, and let me 
go to New York. Will you ? Just enough money 
for a year — that’s all I ask. By the end of that 
time I knowP with a proud, confident uplifting 


i8 


c/1 Little Turning Aside 


of her head, “ I’ll be able to get some illustrat- 
ing to do ; and I can pay my own way. Oh, 
Aunt Drusie, will you ? You’re my mother’s 
own aunt — you might do that much for me. 
Just lend it to me for now, and by and by I’ll 
pay you back — when I begin to paint pictures. 
Oh, you will do it — won’t you ?” Then, forestall- 
ing the refusal she saw in her aunt’s eyes, her 
tone suddenly changed. “If you don’t let me go. 
I’ll run away !” she cried, vehemently. “ I can’t 
stay here any longer — I won’t ! cooped up in 
this miserable hole of a place. I’ll run away — 
just you see if I don’t ! ” Her voice got hoarse 
with unshed tears, and she began tramping up 
and down the kitchen, waving her long arms. 
“ I won’t stay here ! I won’t ! ” she kept repeat- 
ing. “ I want to make something of my life. 
I’ll run away if you don’t help me.” 

Her vehemence, her outspoken demand 
quite upset Mrs. Slade. She had always real- 
ized that she was not equal to coping with 
Hetty’s strong will ; and now a mortifying con- 


Leaving Home 


19 


viction came over her that she would yield — 
would have to yield to her request. Oh, for 
the iron strength of character on which she 
had leaned for forty years, to conquer this bold 
girl ! Hiram wouldn’t have given one cent of 
his money for any “ old paintin’ tomfoolery.” 
Well she knew it! But Hiram was in the 
churchyard, and Hetty’s will was stronger than 
hers — she would have to give in ! A great 
loneliness fell on the desolate widow. Hiram 
gone I to have to rely on her own judgment — 
to decide for herself — how should she do it? 
She was like a rudderless boat that has lost its 
moorings and is drifting about in a rough sea. 
And Hetty was her sole relative — all the kith and 
kin she had ; now she would go — and leave her 
utterly alone in her old age ! A great pity for 
herself seized her. 

“ However can you have the heart to go off 
an’ leave me, Hetty?” she quavered ; “old’s I 
be, too — an’ you the only livin’ one I’ve got.” 
Her faded blue eyes filled with tears, and she 


20 


c/l Little Turning Aside 


looked up reproachfully at the tall, excited girl 
who had come to her side with a rush. 

But reproachful glances were wasted on 
Hetty just then. The color had leaped to her 
cheeks, a glad light into her eyes with the 
promise which her aunt’s words implied. She 
threw herself on her knees beside the old 
wooden armchair, and caught Aunt Drusilla’s 
reluctant fingers in her eager grasp. “That 
means you are willing — you will give me the 
money — you will let me go !” she cried, breath- 
lessly, her words fairly tripping over each other 
in her hurry to get them spoken. “ Doesn’t it. 
Aunt Drusie — doesn’t it?” she shook the work- 
hardened old hand impatiently. “ Oh, say yes ! 
Do ! I shall stay right here on my knees, until 
you say yes.” 

Mrs. Slade was scandalized ! What would 
Hiram have said to such behavior ! Hetty 
would never have dared to “carry on” in this out- 
rageous way, had Hiram been in his usual place 
— in the other armchair, just opposite her own. 


Leaving Home 


21 


“ Get up this very minute, Hetty !” she ex- 
claimed, sharply, dragging her hand away. 
“What^z^^r would your uncle say — an’ you 
a-puttin’ words into my mouth, too.” 

Hetty caught her breath ; she held her 
head up defiantly, though her heart sank — oh ! 
would Aunt Drusilla not let her go ? 

“Tell me now. Aunt Drusie — can I go?” 
she implored. “ Can I go to New York to 
learn to draw and earn my own living? Oh, I 
can’t get up till I know — I would die before I’d 
keep on in this way !” 

Aunt Drusilla pushed her chair back 
abruptly, and, resting on the straight, wooden 
arms, worn smooth with the friction of years, 
she looked squarely at Hetty. “You’d die 
ruther than live here — eh? Then to New 
York,” she cried, raising her thin old voice in 
a sudden gust of anger. “ Go — an’ leave me 
here star^k alone ! Little you care what becomes 
of me, though I’ve given you clo’es an’ house 
room an’ food these nine years — fur nothin’ !’' 


22 


cA Little Turning Aside 


She shook a crooked rheumatic finger in 
Hetty’s face. “ You’re a fulish, wicked, on- 
grateful, onnateral gyrl to leave me jest as 
soon as Hiram’s head’s laid low. I ain’t long 
for this world — you might ’a’ waited — ” Her 
voice broke ; catching her apron to her eyes 
with hands that trembled, she sank back, and, 
resting her face against the thin, faded old 
slumber-roll on her chair, began to cry in a 
weak, pitiful fashion. 

Hetty was on her feet now ; she stood for 
a moment, a heavy frown between her eye- 
brows, looking at her aunt before she spoke. 
“I can’t help it if you think I’m the worst girl 
in the whole world,” she said, doggedly. “I 
must take this chance. I’ve been waiting for 
it for years — ever since I was little, and I feel 
as if I couldn't it. Besides,” in a brisker 
tone, “ I’m sure Mandy Gibson’d come and live 
with you in a minute — she’ll take much better 
care of you than I could. And I’ve got to go. 
When I paint a grand picture and get to be 



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“ She stood for a moment looking at her Aunt 



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Leaving Home 


25 


famous, maybe you’ll change your mind about 
my being so foolish, Aunt Drusie.” She had 
been moving toward the door as she spoke, 
now with the last word she turned and dashed 
out of the house and away to the parsonage, 
to tell her news. 

“I’m going just as soon as I can get my 
things together,” she informed Miss Fanshawe, 
eagerly pouring out her story, and ignoring 
the pained, surprised look on her friend’s face, 
“ for fear Aunt Drusilla should change her 
mind — though I’ve got to that pitch I feel as if 
I’d go anyhow, money, or no money. No, Miss 
Fanshawe — no, edging away quickly and 

throwing out her hands, as if to ward off some- 
thing. “ Don’t say a word about my staying on 
here with her, ’cause I’m not going to do it. 
She said — plainly — that I might go to New 
York and learn to draw — and that' s what I’ll do ! 
Oh, oh! to think it has come at last!'' She 
clapped her hands softly, and laughed aloud, 
a joyful, merry little laugh such as Miss 


26 


c/l Little Turning Aside 


Fanshawe had never heard from her lips 
before. 

But as she slipped softly past the kitchen door 
that evening- Hetty stuck her fingers in her ears 
— for fear she might hear that quiet sniffling. 

Resolutely she 
put all thought of 
Aunt Drusie from 
her mind, and, lean- 
ing out of her little 
attic window into 
the sweet autumn 
air, with only the 
shining stars for 
company, she gave 
herself up to the 
most delightful 
dreams of the fut- 
ure, in which one Hetty Drayton, artist, was 
always the central figure. 

Hetty carried her point ; three days after 
her talk with Aunt Drusilla she stood at the 



“ Leaning out of her little attic 
window.” 


Leaving Home 


27 


railroad station, with a small sum of money — 
it seemed a fortune to her ! — carefully secured 
on her person, and a shabby little trunk beside 
her, waiting feverishly for the train that was to 
take her to New York. 

Those three days had hot been entirely 
happy ones for Hetty, the more so that in them 
her aunt had been kinder, more gentle and 
considerate, than Hetty had ever known her to 
be. She had uttered no further reproach, but 
the expression in her weak, faded eyes, when 
the last good-by was said, haunted Hetty 
unpleasantly. Aunt Drusilla’s friends, how- 
ever, had not been equally reticent, and that, 
too, rankled in Hetty’s memory. How thank- 
ful she was to leave Pendleton, and those hate 
ful, stupid villagers ! 

“ I will 7zever come back here,” she said to 
Miss Fanshawe, who was the only person that 
had come to see her off, “ until I have done 
something wonderful in the world — painted a 
great picture, I mean, and won farne for myself, 


28 


c/l Little Turning Aside 


I guess they’ll all be mighty proud then that I 
ever lived among them. I can do it,” she 
added, hastily, fancying she saw a look of 
amusement on her friend’s face. “ Just let me 
get some instruction, and you will see if I don’t 
paint a great picture — like that wonderful one 
by Bastien-Lepage — that ‘Joan listening to the 
Voices ’ — that you have told me about so 
often. I know I can do it. Miss Fanshawe — 
I feel it here,” laying her hand impulsively on 
her heart. “ I shall give every minute to my 
profession — I love it ! I shall strain every nerve 
to perfect myself in it. I shall make that the 
whole aim and object of my existence. I must, 
I am determined to succeed in it ! ” 

Her fierce earnestness and flashing eyes, 
the clinched, uplifted hand — almost as if regis- 
tering an oath — startled Miss Fanshawe. 

“ I am very glad you have the opportunity 
to study,” she said, gendy ; “ and if you should 
become a great artist you may be sure that no 
one will be more delighted over it than I ; but. 


Leaving Home 


29 


oh, my dear, don’t let ambition absorb your 
whole heart. Don’t, I beg of you, so give 
yourself up to your art as to have no thought, 
no care for your fellow-creatures. If you do,” 
a note of warning in her voice, “you will miss 
much that is far sweeter, far more worth hav- 
ing, than fame. I would never belittle honest, 
well-earned success ; but, believe me, Hetty, 
success — mere gratified ambition — is by no 
means all in life that is worth having.” 

She spoke very earnestly, but Hetty threw 
up her head with the impatient gesture that 
Miss Fanshawe knew of old, and an incredu- 
lous little smile curved her lips. “ Success is 
what I’m going to work for, all the same,” she 
said, brusquely; “and I’ll get it, if I can. 
After that I can afford to be philanthropic and 
all the rest. Oh, there it is at last! Yes,” 
absently, her eyes on the approaching train, 
“ I’ll write. Miss Margaret, but not regularly — 
I told Aunt Drusie that, too — I’ll be busy, you 
know. Good-by ! ” 


30 


cA Little Turning Aside 


She ran a few steps toward the car, then 
turned and went swiftly back to Miss Fan- 
shawe’s side. “You are the only one that’s 
ever given me a word of encouragement,” she 
said, hurriedly. “You’ve been kind tome — 
I’ll never forget it ! ” She caught her friend’s 
hand, for an instant held it fast between her 
own two palms, then, as abruptly dropped it, 
and raced across the track. The guard helped 
her to the platform of the car, the engine 
snorted, and the train moved swiftly away. 

There were tears in Miss Fanshawe’s eyes 
as she turned homeward. “ Poor, wilful young 
thing ! ” she thought, sadly ; “how will it be with 
her alone in that great city? ” Then the cross 
which crowned the spire of the little village 
church met her gaze, and her face brightened. 
“ Ah ! ” she said aloud, lifting her face to the 
blue afternoon sky, “ ‘ God ’s in His heaven ; 
all’s well with the world.’ His orphan lambs 
are dear to Him — Hew\\\ take care of Hetty.’’ 


Chapter II 

At the League 

B ut Hetty found herself in no need of com- 
^ miseration. Thanks to the letters she 
carried from Miss Fanshawe, she had no diffi- 
culty in securing a place to board. The room 
was small and bare, the fare of the plainest, but 
to these Hetty was accustomed, and the house 
was respectable, the price within her means. 

A day or two later she became a student at 
the League. 

It was shortly after this that she wrote Miss 
Fanshawe: ‘T am happier than I have ever 
been in all my life. I work at my drawing as 
much as I please ; and I wouldn’t change places 
with a queen.” 

And happy she certainly was — openly and 
girlishly happy. The absence of fault finding, 
and the freedom to devote unlimited time to 

31 


32 


cA Little Turning Aside 


her beloved art made of her a new creature. 
People were so pleasant and kind, she told 
herself ; and the unusual sights and sounds of 
the wonderful city filled her with a delightful 
holiday feeling. She caught herself humming 
snatches of almost forgotten childish songs as 
she walked to and from the League, and the 
joyous expression of her face would have 
astonished Aunt Drusilla. The attention she 
received in the boarding-house, slight and 
casual though it was, compared favorably with 
her Pendleton experiences, and soothed her 
wounded self-esteem. She made acquaintances 
among her fellow-boarders, and responded 
gratefully to the friendly advances of two girls 
whose room adjoined her own. 

That was for the first few weeks of her 
sojourn in New York. Then, one morning, 
she suddenly awoke to the fact that nearly a 
month of her precious time had slipped away ; 
and she was not satisfied with the progress she 
had made. 


At the League 


33 


“You’ve got to work, work, work, Hetty 
Drayton. That’s what you’ve come here for,” 
she said, scowling at her image in the dingy 
mirror, as she hurriedly arranged her hair. 
“No more play — time enough for that by and 
by, when you have painted that wonderful 
picture.” 

And after that every thought was given to 
her advancement ; and the things which had 
been a pleasure to her she came to regard as 
so many hindrances — to be avoided. 

From the outset she had thrown herself 
into her work with an amount of enthusiasm, 
that, accustomed as he was to youthful fervor, 
amused her instructor. This amusement, how- 
ever, changed to an interest not unmingled 
with admiration as time went on and he noted 
her unwearied application, quick comprehen- 
sion, and the decided talent which showed in 
all of Hetty’s work. 

“This girl has genius,” he remarked tenta- 
tively to a fellow-artist, one of the cleverest — 


34 


c/l Little Turning Aside 


and severest — critics of the day, turning to him 
with the drawing Hetty had left standing on 
her chair, 

“Aha ! that is good ! ” exclaimed the other 
man involuntarily. And when, after examining 
the sketch closely, he did not qualify his adjec- 
tive, Hetty’s master was satisfied, for he knew 
that hypercritical Kirk was chary of praise. 

But if a favorite with her instructor, Hetty 
was far from being a favorite with her associ- 
ates. Many had noticed the strikingly pretty 
girl whose hair was of the warm, bright color 
that artists love to paint, and some of the 
“Preps” were disposed to be very friendly. 
The girls smiled and made room for her at 
“criticisms the men were always ready to offer 
her pieces of bread, place her chair, or to do her 
any other small service. But this good feeling 
died a violent death long before she left the 
class, and perfect indifference or, in a few 
instances, actual dislike, had taken its place. 

But little cared Hetty for that. She had 


At the League 


35 


come to the League to work, to cultivate the 
talent which should bring her the success she 
craved ; why waste a minute of her valuable 
time on these uninteresting people? Before 
the term was over, her work had become 
a matter of honest pride among her compan- 
ions ; but, while admiring, few, if any, made 
advances to her beyond the barest civility. So 
evident were her absorption in her art and her 
utter indifference to everything and every one 
not connected with her own advancement in it, 
that her fellow-students realized the useless- 
ness of any manifestation of good will on their 
part. 

Four months after she began her studies 
Hetty found herself a member of the League, 
and monitor of her class, both of which, to her 
delight, lessened her expenses, thus enabling 
her to join other classes. She was now in the 
Life, and straining every nerve to put all that 
she could into the time that remained to her of 
the season. She was making great strides in 


36 


cA Little Turning Aside 


her art ; only two in the class — and she was 
one of them — were allowed to work in oil, and 
Hetty knew that she was easily far ahead. Her 
work frequently found a place on the “ exhi- 
bition” ledge which 
ran along the wall 
of the class-room, 
beside her instruc- 
tor’s famous pic- 
ture of an ugly, red- 
haired woman; and 
she was asked to 
present a certain 
sketch to the 
League. 

That her mas- 
ter expected great 
things of her only 
Occupation was her one thought.” acrreed with Het- 
ty’s ambition, and was to her another incentive 
to continued effort. Her occupation was her one 
thought, her sole aim in life. She haunted the 



At the League 


37 


League from morn to night, a silent ghost of a 
girl, without a smile or a pleasant word for even 
the genial Thomas, the students’ favorite and 
“ mascot.” The opinion that Miss Drayton was 
as singular and disagreeable as she was clever, 
grew and strengthened in the school and in 
Hetty’s boarding place. 

“Why, the girl is fairly ‘possessed’!” 
declared an old lady in the boarding-house. 
“ She’ll kill herself if she keeps on working in 
such a desperate fashion — then what good will 
all this Art be to her, / would like to know ? 
It’s against nature for a young thing to act so.” 
And her kind old heart was troubled, as she 
noticed how thin Hetty had grown, and that 
the fresh, bright color she had brought to town 
was now merely a faint dash of pink in her 
cheeks. She determined to have a talk with 
“ the poor young thing” — to remonstrate with 
her. But Hetty’s cold, proud manner, and the 
brusque replies which met her opening remarks, 
made the old lady change her mind, and drop the 


38 


(A Little Turning Aside 


subject. But though her classmates and fellow- 
boarders might have doubted it, this behavior 
was not always easy to Hetty. With all her 
intense love of art, and her fixed determina- 
tion to make everything else subservient to 
her success in it, she was only a girl — only 
eighteen — with natural girlish impulses, which, 
sometimes, very nearly upset all the rigid rules 
and regulations that she had laid down for her 
own guidance. 

The two friendly girls at the boarding-house 
were a distraction to her. They occupied the 
room next to hers ; she could hear them talk- 
ing and laughing together in the evenings she 
spent at home, when she was writing to Aunt 
Drusilla or Miss Fanshawe, or — generally — 
sketching, or studying the prints of the old 
masters which Mr. Bryce had lent her. A great 
longing for some of the fun would come over 
her ; but when the girls had been in her room 
a few times and stayed chatting until ten 
o’clock, Hetty began to think that she w^s 


At the League 


39 


wasting time, and treated her visitors so cava- 
lierly that they did not trouble her again very 
soon with their company. 

The children she met on the avenue and in 
the parks with their nurses were another of 
Hetty’s distractions. They were so pretty, so 
dainty and graceful, that she longed to sketch 
them ; and, with this end in view, tried to make 
friends with some of the little folks. But when 
she found that this required both time and 
patience, she gave up the project in disgust, 
and concluded it would be more profitable to 
hire models — poor children — who would not 
expect to be coaxed to pose. She ingratiated 
herself with her landlady’s handsome little four- 
year-old son, got him to come into her room, 
romped and played with him, until she managed 
to secure several fine sketches of the little 
fellow. After that she kept her door closed, 
and pretended not to hear the small fists pound- 
ing on it, or the eager, childish voice clamor- 
ing for “a dame er womps.” 


40 


cA Little Turning Aside 


Once in a while there came an almost irre- 
sistible impulse to throw rules, regulations and 
ambitions aside, and, as she expressed it, to 
“just have a good time.” This was in the 
spring, when nature, fresh from her long sleep, 
and beautiful, even in the crowded city, stirred 
the country girl with a sharp longing for 
green fields and human sympathy. And once 
in a while — a long while — Miss Fanshawe’s 
words of warning, spoken at the Pendleton 
station, came back to her mind. But she put 
both longing and warning resolutely from her. 

At the May exhibition ffetty’s was by far 
the best work ; and she enjoyed a small tri- 
umph, for congratulations and high praise 
were generously accorded her. Best of all 
were her instructor’s parting words on the last 
day of the term. “That work is good,” he 
remarked to Hetty, motioning to the drawing 
which had brought her the highest commenda- 
tion ; “but you can do much better — you can 
paint a great picture some day. And I expect 



“‘That work is good/ he remarked, ‘but you can do much 

better/ ” 





At the League 


43 


you to do it. Ah ! you know it ? ” for the girl’s 
face had suddenly grown radiant. 

She looked up at him with sparkling eyes. 
“Yes,” she said — there was a proud ring in 
her voice — “I will paint a famous picture some 
day. I know\\,] I feel it here.” She laid her 
hand on her heart, as she had the day she bid 
Miss Fanshawe good-by. 

“ May I be here to see it ! ” Mr. Bryce 
answered, with a pleasant gleam in his usually 
cold eyes. Then he added, kindly: “ But take 
care of yourself this summer ; don’t hang 
around the hot city. Get out in the country 
and take all the ozone you can into your lungs. 
If your people live out of town so much the 
better — get off to ’em as soon as you can.” 
Perhaps he, too, had noticed the lengthening 
of his clever pupil’s face, and that her color 
had faded ; though just then she was red as a 
rose and bright with animation. 

His friendly advice lingered in Hetty’s 
rnemory as she walked home that afternoon, 


44 


c/1 Little Turning Aside 


tired, but still aglow with the happiness her 
day had brought her. She thought of Pendle- 
ton in its fair spring garb — the apple trees 
must be a mass of fragrant pink and white 
bloom, and the clump of cherry-trees outside 
Aunt Drusie’s kitchen door — those delicious 
ox-heart cherries ! She wondered if the snow- 
drops and violets and the dainty hepaticas 
grew as thick as ever in the woods this year — 
that corner of the woods through which the 
little brook sang its way. Hetty determined 
that some day — when she was rich and famous 
— she would go back to Pendleton on purpose 
to put that corner of the woods into a picture. 
It was well worth painting, she decided. 

Glancing up at the narrow strip of blue 
sky which showed above the tall houses, a sud- 
den sharp longing fell on her — such a home- 
sick craving for the fields, the woods and the 
call of the birds as astonished and startled her. 

“But I’m not going home!” she declared, 
aloud, breathlessly, defiantly, stopping short 


At the League 


45 


in the quiet street, much to the surprise of a 
tramp cat, which sat on a step of the nearest 
stoop, leisurely washing its face. Fearful of an 
attack, pussy whisked herself to the balcony, 
from which place of vantage she surveyed the 
tall girl below. “Fm not going home!” 
repeated Hetty. “For what? to be kept 
there — a drudge — by Aunt Drusie. She'd 
never let me come back ; I know she wouldn’t. 
And just when I’m beginning to see my way to 
the place where I want to be. No, indeed I 
Here I stay.” 

So when Miss Fanshawe’s next letter 
brought a request from Aunt Drusilla — writing 
was a formidable task to the old lady — for 
Hetty to come home for the summer, she sent 
back a prompt and positive refusal. No 
further word was received from her aunt — nor 
remittances either. And Hetty found it a hard 
struggle to live without the latter. But she 
put her head up in the air, and told herself she 
was “not going to be beaten.” 


46 


c/l Little Turning Aside 


She gave up her boarding-house and hired 
a still smaller, barer, cheaper room elsewhere, 
getting her own breakfasts, and taking the 
other two meals “out” — when she took them 
at all. She haunted the newspaper offices and 
publishing houses and was glad to take all the 
illustrating she could get at any price that was 
offered. Her beloved painting and frequent 
visits to Central Park and the Riverside Drive 
were her only recreation. These were places 
to which she could walk — she could not afford 
a car-fare. The intense heat and noise, the 
unaccustomed odors of the crowded city, and 
the narrow limits of her room, under a sloping 
roof, were almost unendurable to the country- 
bred girl ; and many a night she went hungry 
to bed. Years after, when the dream of her 
girlhood was realized and she had became a 
famous artist, Hetty used to shudder at the 
remembrance of those days and nights, and of 
some still more wretched days and nights 
which followed 


At the League 


47 


But now her ambition did not falter, nor her 
courage fail ; slowly yet steadily she accumu- 
lated the sum necessary for her tuition, and, 
if pale and thin, it was also a very resolute 
young person who resumed her studies at the 
League in October. 

She had made a number of sketches during 
the summer — views from the Riverside, and 
picturesque nooks of the Park — enjoying the 
work, but sometimes uncertain as to its merits 
and her instructor s warm praise was a pleasant 
surprise. 

“Why, this is capital ! — the best work you 
have done,” he exclaimed. “ These ought to 
bring you a fair price.” He glanced at the 
pale, thin face before him, and swept the draw- 
ings together. “Pve an acquaintance who 
raves about the ‘views’ along the Drive,” he 
remarked; “and he knows a good thing 
when he sees it. I’ll show him these.” Then 
he wheeled round on Hetty. “ See here ! ” he 
said, abruptly ; “ the Chanler Prize competition 


48 


(A Little Turning Aside 


comes off here this month — in a few weeks. 
Have you thought of that ? Why don’t you 
compete for -it? Nine hundred a year for five 
years, and Paris and travel are worth trying for 
—eh?” 

Hetty gave a little gasp — even her vaulting 
ambition had not aspired to that dizzy height ! 
“ Oh ! could I? — could I ? ” she cried, breath- 
lessly, bending eagerly toward him ; a bright 
spot of red flamed in her thin cheeks. “Is my 
work good enough for ” 

“ Don’t you worry about the ‘ good 
enough,’ ” he interrupted, and with a little 
reassuring motion of his hand; “leave that 
to the jury. Go ahead, and make your draw- 
ings — from life, you know — and get ’em in 
earl ” 

“ But no girl — no woman — has ever been 
allowed to compete,” broke in Hetty, her eyes 
big with anxiety. 

“ I know it,” returned Mr. Bryce, shortly ; 
“ and more’s the shame to us ! Good work is 


At the League 


49 


good work, and should be so considered — 
regardless of sex. If your work deserves it, you 
should have as square an opportunity to com- 
pete for the prize as any man in the school I 
know all the objections — have heard them till I 
know ’em off by heart — and there isn’t one 
among them that can’t be overcome. At any 
rate, / shall do my level best to break them 
down, for I consider such a distinction most 
unfair. Send your drawings in — and you’ll 
have to hustle, young lady — everything should 
be in by the 13th at latest. Gluck auf ! ” And 
catching up Hetty’s drawings he walked hastily 
away. 


Chapter III 

The Paris Prize 

ETTY knew Mr. Bryce to be a man of his 
word, as well as of importance in the 
League, and, buoyed up by the new, brilliant 
hope he had inspired, she bent every nerve to 
her work, with redoubled interest, and with a 
singleness, a tenacity of purpose which made 
her oblivious of everything else. 

In that mysterious way in which sometimes 
secrets leak out, long before the competition 
opened it was known throughout the League 
that Miss Drayton intended to submit draw- 
ings for the Paris Prize ; and it was shrewdly 
surmised that her instructor would “ make a 
fight” to have her included in the twenty 
selected candidates. It created quite a stir 
among the students, and aroused warm discus- 
sion, some being in favor of Hetty’s admission, 

50 


The Paris Prize 


51 


while others were opposed to it ; though all 
agreed that the men would find in her a formid- 
able competitor. For several days — while the 
work of the candidates was being examined — 
the excitement ran high, and reached a climax 
when it became known that Mr. Bryce had 
carried his point, and that, for the first time in 
the annals of the League, a woman would 
compete for the Paris Prize. 

Those days of waiting were an agony to 
Hetty ; her drawings sent in, she wandered 
aimlessly in and out of the building, or sat in 
class staring at the model with unseeing eyes. 
She was too nervous to work. 

But with the tidings of her admission to the 
final competition, all her courage and coolness 
returned. 

“ Should think you’d be scared almost out 
of your wits at the very thought of next 
week,” several of Hetty’s fellow-students told 
her ; and one girl, who had an unpleasant 
way of putting things, remarked: “Wouldn’t 


52 


c/1 Little Turning Aside 


it be perfectly horrid if, after all, you should 
fail ! ” 

But, with her head held very high, Hetty 
answered, calmly and confidently, “ I do not 
expect to fail ; and I am certainly not in the 
least frightened.” 

And in the trying week that followed more 
than one man among the competitors envied 
Hetty her composure and power of concentra- 
tion — what they called her “ nerve.” Now and 
then a vague wonder of it flitted across the 
girl’s own mind. On each morning of that 
eventful week she took her place behind the 
screen which separated her from the men, and 
was immediately so absorbed in her subject as 
to be perfectly unconscious of everything and 
every one else in the room. And the almost 
fury of rapidity with which she worked 
astonished her. 

“ Almost as if I were possessed,” she said 
to herself, as she thought the day over on her 
way home one afternoon “ I got along 


The Paris Prize 


53 


famously — if it will only last ! Oh ! if I can 
only win the prize ! and Paris ! travel ! Guess 
Aunt Drusie will change her mind then about 
my ‘foolishness/ Won’t those old Pendleton 
busybodies be astonished, though ! And Miss 
Fanshawe will be delighted. I’ll write her the 
very first thing, or, may be, Pll telegraph — 
I’ll be able to afford It with an income of nine 
hundred dollars a year ! Sounds as if I were 
counting my chickens before they were 

hatched ” She broke off with a gay laugh. 

She had a conviction that the work she had 
accomplished that day, both in the life and 
portrait class, was of her best, and that gave 
her a delightful feeling of elation. 

She hummed a tune as she ran up the 
steep steps to her bare little room. On the 
table lay a letter for her in Miss Fanshawe’s 
handwriting. 

“ And I owe her three letters now. Isn’t 
she a dear ! ” cried Hetty, talking to herself, as 
people are apt to do who live alone. She 


54 


cA Little Turning Aside 


pounced upon the letter and tore it open ; as 
she drew the single sheet from the envelope a 
soft, well-worn bank bill fell from it on the 
table. It was not a long letter, and was easily 
read : 

“ My dear Hetty : 

“ Your Aunt Drusilla is quite ill, and would 
like you to come to her at once. She sends 
you the money, which I enclose, for your trav- 
eling expenses ; and she asks that you will 
start for Pendleton as soon as you receive 
my letter. I don’t think she is in immediate 
danger, but she has been complaining all sum- 
mer, and now has taken to her bed. Dr. Elton 
says that at her age one can never be sure 
how such an illness may end. She is ill and 
lonely, and she wants you. Dear child, I know 
what a strong hold your work has on you, but, 
humanly speaking, you have years of life 
before you to devote to Art, and your aunt’s 
• three-score and ten are more than accom- 
plished. She has not much longer to be here, 
and she has a claim on you — her only relative. 


The Paris Prize 


55 


After she is gone you can take up your work 
again, and with a clear conscience. Come at 
once, Hetty, drop everything and come. By 
and by, looking back, you will be glad you 
have done this. I shall expect you by the 
10.30 train on Thursday morning, and will be 
at our station to meet you. Don’t disappoint 
me. Your loving friend, 

“ Margaret Fanshawe.” 

Hetty’s face had grown very white while 
she read, and now she looked up with aston- 
ished, frightened eyes. “Go home — now/"' 
she almost gasped. *'Now — and the Paris 
Prize — ! ” 

She dropped Miss Fanshawe’s letter on the 
table, and sat down and looked at it in a dull, 
dazed fashion. “ They don’t know about the 
Prize,” she said slowly, heavily. “ They don’t 
dream of such a thing, or they would never 
ask me to /eave — now. Aunt Drusie thinks an 
awful lot of money — she wouldn’t want me to 
lose all that.” 


56 


cA Little Turning Aside 


A line in the letter lying open before her 
caught her eye, “ Drop everything and come.” 
That meant drop the Paris Prize — the keen com- 
petition which she was enjoying so thoroughly— 
the proud joy of the victor — freedom from 
money cares for five beautiful years — the exqui- 
site satisfaction of improving in her beloved art 
under the finest of masters— travel — success ! It 
meant dropping all that made life worth the 
living — such an opportunity would never come 
to her again. 

A sudden fury seized Hetty ; springing to 
her feet, she snatched up the letter and tore it 
savagely into pieces. “For nine years she’s 
kept me down,” she cried out, and the sharp 
pain she heard in her own voice increased her 
anger; “and she would like to do it again. 
What ! drop my work now — when the chance 
of my whole life is open to me ? For what ? 
To be a drudge to that tiresome, cross old 
woman — to be picked at and crowed over by 
those common, ignorant friends of hers. To 


The Paris Prize 


57 


let everything go that I’ve gained in this year? 
No/ Aunt Drusilla and Miss Fanshawe and 
the whole pack of them can think just what 
they like — I am not going home And then, 
almost as suddenly as she had got angry, she 
quieted down. 

By this time Miss Fanshawe’s letter was 
reduced to the smallest atoms that the strength 
of Hetty’s fingers could accomplish, and gath- 
ering them up carefully she threw them out 
of the window. “That settles that!"' she 
remarked, with decision. “ I couldn’t leave 
now after all Mr. Bryce has done to get me 
into the class ; and I wouldn’t, anyhow.” 

Then she folded up the bank-note Aunt 
Drusilla had sent, and hid it away at the bottom 
of her trunk. “ I’ll send that back when I 
write to tell her I’ve won the prize,” she thought ; 
and she put the matter resolutely from her mind. 

There was little time for reflection in that 
crowded week ; the competition claimed Hetty’s 
days and often a good part of her nights as 


5S 


c/1 Little Turning Aside 


well. She had a calm and assured feeling- in 
regard to her morning and afternoon work — 
the full-length figure in charcoal, and the head 
in oil from life ; on those, she told herself with 
secret exultation, she was equal to any man 
among the twenty. But there were some who 
excelled her in composition ; she knew it, and 
she spared no effort in her power to improve 
her deficiency. Every night of that week she 
worked at composition, at home, by the dull, 
dismal light which only made the darkness of 
her room more visible, and far into the wee 
sma’ hours. 

“Now brace every nerve for to-morrow,” 
Mr. Bryce said, as he parted with Hetty on 
Friday afternoon. “That is the final test, and 
then — victory and Paris ! eh } D’you feel 
shaky?” noticing the heavy, black shadows 
under her eyes, and the delicate blue veins that 
showed so distinctly on her temples. 

But Hetty smiled. “I’m not a bit nervous,” 
she assured him. 


The Paris Prize 


59 


“Well : go to bed early to-night,” he advised 
kindly, “and lay in strength for to-morrow. 
Don’t sit up late — burning the candle at both 
ends is a bad business.” 

Hetty, however, had not the slightest inten- 
tion of following his advice. Though the sub- 
ject of the composition would not be announced 
until the morning of the following — last — day, 
Hetty knew it would be Scriptural ; and all her 
nightly efforts had been in that line. To-day a 
bold, and, to her thinking, original way had 
come to her mind of picturing that part of the 
sweet, old Bible story of the seeking of Isaac’s 
wife, where Abraham’s faithful servant states 
his errand in the presence of Bethuel and 
Laban, and of the damsel Rebekah, who “was 
very fair to look upon.” In imagination Hetty 
could see the group — picturesque in Eastern 
dress and surrounding ; and she was eager to 
begin her composition. If by any happy chance 
that should be the subject assigned for the next 
day, so much the better, and if not — why, the 


6o 


<A Little Turning Aside 


experience could not but be of service in the 
contest. 

As she was going up the stoop of her board- 
ing-house the postman came by and handed 
her a letter. Hetty took it without a glance, 
but with a sudden sinking of the heart. Before 
she saw the writing she knew it was Miss Fan- 
shawe’s ; and by the time she reached her room 
she had resolved not to read one word of it. 
Lighting the gas, she stuck the letter on the 
end of a hatpin, and held it over the feeble 
flame until all that was left of the long envelope 
and its contents was a crisp, black curl, which 
she threw out of the window. Then she began 
her composition. She soon became deeply 
engrossed, and it seemed to her she had worked 
but a short time when the gas, without warn- 
ing, went out — it was turned off at ten o’clock. 
Nothing daunted, she lighted a small kerosene 
lamp, her own property, and resumed her occu- 
pation with an interest that deepened with every 
stroke of her brush. 


The Paris Prize 


6i 


Faster and faster she painted as the hours 
flew by, iint'l suddenly, with the striking of a 
distant church clock, she realized how late it 
was, and that she was very tired and cold. 


“ Ugh ! I’m all goose flesh ! ” she exclaimed, 
shivering and beating her shoulders to set her 



tired ! ” she murmured, as she yawned and 
stretched. Then she threw her arms across 
the table at which she sat, and laid her head 
down wearily on them. “Just for a minute 
before I begin to undress,” she told herself, 
and fell fast asleep ! 


62 


€4 Little Turning Aside 


The sun was shining into the room when 
she awoke the next morning, shivering with 
cold, and with a great start and the horrible 
fear of having overslept herself. Seen in the 
broad light of day, her composition did not 
appear the glowing thing of beauty of the night 
before. Hetty felt languid, dull and depressed, 
and presently she became conscious of a queer, 
disagreeable sensation about her eyelids — of 
great heaviness, in fact, as if she could hardly 
keep them open. She felt nervous, too, “hor- 
rid and shaky all over,” as she expressed it, 
but she determined not to give way to the 
feeling, and after she had bathed and dressed, 
and taken her customary frugal breakfast of a 
cup of weak coffee and a roll, she began to feel 
better. By the time she reached the League, 
she was apparently as calm and composed 
as usual. 

That was the last day of the competition, 
and, to many, the most trying. 

The subject of the composition was at once 


The Paris Prize 


63 


announced ; needless to say, it was not the one 
on which Hetty had spent the greatest part of 
her night, and by nine o’clock, promptly, the 
twenty candidates were ensconced in the alcoves 
that had been partitioned off for them in the 
Antique. The outer doors were locked, and 
no one was allowed to pass through the narrow 
inner hall. Within the alcoves the silence was 
broken only by the light footsteps of the super- 
vising jury as they made their way quietly from 
one candidate to another. 

The time flew by ; two and a half pf the 
four hours allowed for the contest had slipped 
away. Mr. Bryce had just spoken a word of 
encouragement and passed out of the alcove, 
where Hetty was hard at work — painting with 
scrupulous care, and with nerves that were 
quivering and throbbing throughout her body — 
and had taken his way to another candidate, 
when something that was most unexpected hap- 
pened. With a suddenness that brought the 
men leaping to their feet, a sharp, piercing cry 


64 


cA Little Turning Aside 


rang through the large room — a cry of terror, 
of wild distress. 

“ Oh ! oh ! Something awfiil has happened 

to me ! I can’t open my eyes ! I can’t see ! 

Oh, help me — somebody — quick ! quick /” The 
words ended in a shriek, and Hetty Drayton 
came stumbling out of her alcove, hastily, yet 
in a groping, uncertain fashion ; throwing her 
hands out wildly and catching convulsively at 
whatever was nearest. Her upturned, fright- 
ened face was white as death, and her eyes 
were closed, the long, dark lashes lying as 
closely on her cheeks as if she were asleep. 

The men — jury and candidates alike — were 
all in the narrow hall now, struggling and push- 
ing against one another to get the quicker to 
the girl’s side. Mr. Bryce made his way rapidly 
through them to Hetty. “ What’s the trouble. 
Miss Hetty?” he asked, kindly, soothingly. 
“ What has happened ? ” 

She caught at his arm with both of her 
hands ; he could see she was trembling from 



“Oh, help me — somebody— quick ! 


quick ! 












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V 




The Paris Pnze 


67 


head to foot ; and great tears came slipping 
down her cheeks, oozing slowly from under her 
closed lids. 

“What’s the trouble, child? ” he repeated, 
a note of alarm in his voice. 

Hetty lifted her white face to him. “ Oh, I 
don’t know what it is,” she said, brokenly, her 
lips quivering like those of a frightened child ; 
“ but something has happened to me — my 
eyelids have shut and I cannot get them up ! 
They’re like lead — see ! ” With cold, shaking 
fingers she tried to push open her heavy lids, 
but they refused to rise. “Oh! what is it? 
What is it ? ” she asked piteously. Then, sud- 
denly, eagerly, breathlessly, “ Is this being 

blind ? Oh ! it couldn t be ! could it ? 

Blind ! ” her voice grew shrill with fear, “ blind 
— and 7 ny composition 710 1 finished P'* 



PART II 


Strife 


And someUmes count a failure 
as a 'hkiory <won 



Chapter I 

A Biiier Disappointment 

J N the excitement which followed, the Paris 
Prize was, for a while, entirely forgotten. 
Some one had unlocked the doors of the 
Antique, and curious newcomers, anxious to 
learn the cause of the unusual stir, poured 
in until the alcoves and narrow aisles were 
thronged. They closed around Hetty, press- 
ing upon her with eager expressions of sympa- 
thy and commiseration ; every one talking at 
once — asking questions, offering suggestions, 
urging advice, after the kindly, disjointed and 
irresponsible fashion of the majority of people 
in an emergency. 

Each person felt — incumbent upon some 
other person present — the urgent necessity for 
prompt action ; and there was a general sense 
of relief when a voice called authoritatively : 

71 


72 


cA Little Turning Aside 


“Make room for the doctor,” and Mr. Bryce 
came elbowing his way through the crowded 
hall, followed by a red haired, red-bearded man 
of medium height, who wore a long brown 
ulster, and carried a small black hand-satchel. 

That the doctor be- 
lieved in active measures 
was soon demonstrated, 
for in about the space of 
three minutes the crowd 
found itself outside the 
locked doors of the An- 
tique, and he was examin- 
ing Hetty’s eyes. 

Mr. Bryce watched his 
face intently, waited impa- 
, tiently while he questioned 
Hetty, then he drew the 
physician aside. “Well,” 
he said, abruptly, “what’s 
the trouble? Anything serious ? ” When, with 
professional reticence, Dr. Dennis hesitated. 



Dr. Dennis. 


cA Bitter Disappointment 


73 


he added, shortly, “Speak out! I’m no rela- 
tive — and I must know, in order to settle a 
matter here ; ” he waved his hand carelessly 
toward the candidates and jury, who were 
standing about in waiting groups. 

“ My examination has of necessity been a 
hurried one,” answered the doctor; “but the 
symptoms are all so marked that they are not 
to be mistaken.” Then he mentioned the 
medical term by which this illness that had 
come to Hetty was known. 

Mr. Bryce had never heard of such a dis- 
ease. “Is it something that will hang on ; or 
will she be over it in a few days, say, a week?” 
he asked, anxiously. “She’s an artist, com- 
peting for a prize — they’re all in it,” with a 
rapid jerk of his thumb in the direction of the 
waiting groups ; “ and it looked as if she would 
win — that is, if she can finish her composition 
to-day, or Monday.” 

The doctor shook his head. “She could 
not possibly get over this disease in a few 


74 


cA Little Turning Aside 


weeks,” he said, decidedly. “ It lasts for 
months, years ; sometimes,” he dropped his 
voice, “ for a lifetime. Her system is very low 
— from what I gather she has been overwork- 
ing and undereating for the last year — taking 
no care whatever of herself This attack is no 
doubt due to that, and aggravated by a sudden 
violent cold. Still,” he added, encouragingly, 
“she is young, and, unless the trouble is con- 
genital, it is not impossible for her to get over 
it in the course of a year or two. It could hardly 
be in less time, for she’s in pretty bad condi- 
tion.” Hurriedly he added some details of 
the case. 

“ Poor, unfortunate child ! ” exclaimed Mr. 
Bryce, involuntarily. His eyes turned to where 
Hetty sat, hunched up in a chair, her head bent 
low on her breast, her hands lying idly in her 
lap. The tears had stopped, and the expres- 
sion of wild fright had died out of her face ; 
but the mournful droop of her mouth, the 
dejected attitude of the usually erect, proud 



ff 


“ Outside the Antique doors. 





f 





V 

■it 





c/1 Bitter Disappointment 


11 


young figure touched her instructor keenly. 
She looked, as she was, stunned by the mis- 
fortune which had fallen upon her. 

“Poor child!” repeated Mr. Bryce, think- 
ing of all her high hopes. Then he shook off his 
sadness, and responded to a remark of one of 
the jury. “Yes, she’s out of it,” he said, 
brusquely. “ Now one of the fellows may go 
in and win — if he can,” grimly. “I’ll get the 
poor girl home, then I’ll come back and take 
my place again.” 

He drew Hetty kindly but hastily outside 
the Antique doors. “ Here,” he threw the 
girl’s hat and coat into Dr. Dennis’s arms, 
“help her on with these. Pm going to find 
some woman in the building to go with us and 
see to her.” 

“No! — no!'' Hetty put out a detaining 
hand. “ I’d rather be alone, Mr. Bryce ! ” 

But he was off — scattering as he went the 
curious ones who still lingered in the hall. 

Then Hetty reached out her hand again. 


78 


cA Little Turning Aside 


this time catching the sleeve of the red-haired 
little doctor. “Tell me,” she said ; there was 
an imploring note in her voice — “you evaded 
it before — tell me — Am I blind ? What is the 
matter with me? Is this a kind of blindness ? 
Please answer me ! ” She gave his sleeve a little 
shake. 

“ It is an affection of the lids ; your eyes, I 
think, I hope, are all right — ” began Dr. 
Dennis ; his voice had an honest ring in it that 
reassured Hetty, and sent hope flashing into 
her heart. 

“ Oh ! then it’s only the lids,” she inter- 
rupted, joyfully. “ Oh, how thankfid I am ! 
Can’t you do something to them so I can go on 
with my work to-day ? Oh ! can t you ? Just 
for an hour and a half — perhaps less, for my 
composition is about half finished, the hardest 
part of it is done. After that I could rest. It 
is for the Prize, you know — Paris — five years 
— under the very finest masters” — her words 
came so fast they were almost incoherent ; and 


cA Bitter Disappointment 


79 


she began shaking with nervousness. “ If I 
can only — finish my — composition — I’ll win — I 
know I shall — I knozv I shall. Can’t you give me ' 
something to make my eyelids stay open ? 
Doctors are so wise ! yitst for an hour and a 
half. Mr. Bryce will make the class wait, I’m 
sure. I’m the only girl — woman — that’s ever 
been allowed to compete for the Prize — and I 
must sNm it! Oh, can’t you help me to-day — 
now ? Can’t you, doctor ? ” 

She waited breathlessly for his answer, and 
when none came immediately, fear — a great, 
clutching fear — a^ain seized her. “Oh, answer 
me — please answer me,” she begged. “ Can’t 
you help me ? ’ 

“Not to-day,” Dr. Dennis said, gently. 

“ First you must go home, and give your poor, 
tired eyes a good rest. You have been over- 
taxing your strength la ” 

But again Hetty broke in — in an agony of 
entreaty, “Well, then, by Monday?” she im- 
plored. “Oh! surely, if I rest to-day and 


8o 


c/l Little Turning Aside 


to-morrow, by Monday I could finish my com- 
position ? They’d wait for me until Monday — 
I’ll beg them — I’ll get Mr. Bryce to fight for it. 
Oh ! think of what this means to me ! What 
are the doctors worth,” angrily, “ if they can’t 
cure a little, simple ailment like this ? By Mon- 
day ? Can’t you? Ah! please — please — by 
Monday ! ” — the words ended in a nervous 
gasp. 

“ Control yourself,” urged the physician. 
“The quieter you keep, the better for your 
recovery.” 

But Hetty was now past reasoning with. 
She clutched Dr. Dennis’s shoulder with both 
hands. “If not Monday — when?” she de- 
manded, imperiously. “ When shall I be able 
to — take up my work again ? — next week — 
next month — next year ? When ? ” Then, as 
Jasper Dennis was casting rapidly about in his 
mind for words in which to answer, without 
grieving her, she cried out — almost beside her- 
self with anger and a terrible apprehension : 


c/l Bitter Disappointment 


8i 


“Tell me the truth — I would rather hear it — I 
will have it ! I’m no baby, to be put off in this 
way — tell me the honest truth — I’m not one bit 
frightened — See — I’m — quite — calm. Answer 
me — Shall I be well in — in — 2. year f Though 
it cost her an immense effort to utter that 
last word, she had actually not the remotest 
idea that this trouble could keep her so long 
from her beloved work, and the answer which 
fell upon her ears came with a crushing shock. 

“Hush ! hush ! Miss Hetty,control yourself,” 
it was Mr. Bryce’s voice, as he walked rapidly 
toward them. The slender, fair girl who accom- 
panied him was Cara Etting ; many a time had 
Hetty ignored and even deliberately snubbed 
her, but she had been the first to respond to 
the appeal for a woman’s help for her stricken 
classmate. 

Mr. Bryce came and stood by Hetty’s side, 

I will tell you the truth,” he said, in his 

abrupt way, but with genuine kindness in his 

tone, “for I know you are not one of the sort 
6 


82 


(A Little Turning Aside 


that sit down and cry over spilt milk. You’ve 
got lots of grit — you’ve shown that — and now 
is the time to bring it well to the front. This 
— eh — trouble of the eyelids is a slow, mean 
sort of business — in the way of mending.” He 
saw the expression of Hetty’s face, and hurried 
on, though each word grew more difficult to 
utter. “ It takes time — so better allow your- 
self tw ,” he caught a quick gesture of the 

doctor, and coughed sharply to cover his unfin- 
ished word. “ Better allow yourself — well — 
a year or so,” he ran the last two words rap- 
idly together, “ to get good and well in. Good 
and well, you know ; then come back and take 
up your work again, all the better for the rest. 
Now, now. Miss Hetty, show yourself a brave 
” he broke off abruptly. 

A look of blank horror had settled on 
Hetty’s face. Her hands, which unconsciously 
still grasped Dr. Dennis’ shoulder, and her 
arms stiffened convulsively, pushing the physi- 
cian from her, her whole figure grew rigid. 


cA Bitter Disappointment 


83 


“ ‘A year — or so,’ ” she repeated, slowly, heav- 
ily. “A year — or — so! And the — Prize — my 

composition ! To — go home — this way ! 

Oh! — God!'' Her head dropped forward, 
her body suddenly relaxed ; and Mr. Bryce 
barely caught the fainting figure before it 
reached the floor. 

“ She is in a highly nervous condition ; she 
must have rest before I can do anything at all 
for her eyes. She must be kept very quiet,’’ 
Dr. Dennis impressed upon Cara Etting, who 
had come home with Hetty. “ Keep her quiet, 
and take care of her.” 

So kind-hearted Cara gave up her classes 
for a while and constituted herself nurse to the 
poor, white-faced girl, who, with lips set rigidly 
together, lay silently on the cot-bed in her dull, 
bare room. 

Hetty was quiet enough at first, as far as 
spoken words were concerned, turning from 
every expression of sympathy or interest, and 


84 


(A Little Turning Aside 


from questions with aweary, impatient gesture, 
and the pathetic appeal, “ Oh, let me alone ! 
Just let me alone / ” 

For days, for nights she lay there, stricken, 
her courage gone, crushed with the terrible dis- 
appointment of her high hopes, her daring 
ambition. A heavy cloud of gloom settled 
down upon her, completely enveloping her, 
and she grew so absorbed in her own unhappy 
reflections as to have neither thought nor care 
for aught else. Beside this misfortune which 
had befallen her, everything else became 
insignificant, and that Cara was losing class 
after class to wait upon her; that her uncouth 
landlady was demanding whom should she look 
to “ fur the rint av me room,” and that Mr. 
Bryce was displeased at her positive refusal to 
give any information of her family, friends or 
home — all these came to be matters of perfect 
indifference to Hetty. 

But her strong will still asserted itself. She 
would allow not a word of reference to the 


c/1 Bitter Disappointment 


85 


Paris Prize, and, after a while — as time went 
on— she forbade the girl students, who dropped 
in to see Cara, to even enter her room. 

After a couple of weeks Cara was obliged 
to resume her work at the League, then Hetty 
got up from her bed and sat in a chair beside 
it — sat there the livelong day ; her head dropped 
low on her breast, her hands lying in her lap, 
brooding over the irrevocable past, or rousing 
up to fits of bitter weeping and wild, unrea- 
soning anger. 

Poor Hetty ! those were dark days for her. 

She became possessed by an intense nerv- 
ous dread of taking a step alone, even in her 
own small room, in which every article of the 
spare furnishing, every inch of the limited space 
was familiar to her ; and she absolutely refused 
to stir out of the house for the daily walk in the 
sunshine which the doctor declared to be a very 
important part of her “ treatment.” In vain he 
and Mr. Bryce promised to guard her footsteps 
with the greatest care ; in vain Cara coaxed 


86 


c/l Little Turning Aside 


and pleaded. Hetty would not even make the 
attempt. 

“ Let me alone ! Go away and let me be 
in peace. I don’t want to go out, and I will not ! 
I won’t !” she would declare ungraciously, her 
voice rising querulously higher and higher with 
each word ; while she clung to the arms of the 
old rocking-chair, as if she feared to be torn 
from it. 

“We must remember that patience is a vir- 
tue, and rejoice in this opportunity of cultivat- 
ing it,” Dr. Dennis told Mr. Bryce and Cara in 
the half-serious, half-whimsical manner that they 
were beginning to understand and like. “We 
must not fret or annoy her, just now ; we must 
bide our time, like the wise people we are. She 
is, I think, of an active temperament ; by and 
by, as she grows stronger, this dread of moving 
about will lessen, and she will begin to make 
her way around the room ; then will come more 
confidence, and a desire to go out of doors.” 

But it was circumstances rather than return- 


(A Bitter Disappointment 


87 


ing energy which first roused Hetty to that 
exertion. Her good friend, Mr. Bryce, was, at 
a few hours’ notice, summoned to Europe, and 
so hurried was his departure that he had to sail 
without seeing either Hetty or Cara, only 
managing a brief interview with Dr. Dennis. 
It was some days after this, when Cara was 
settling her friend’s weekly account with the 
ever prompt landlady, that Hetty overheard 
the word “ hospital.” A sudden apprehension 
seized her. 

“ Cara ! Cara Etting ! come here ! ” she 
cried out, so sharply that Cara came running 
in. She found Hetty standing by her chair, 
holding on to the back of it, a very disturbed 
expression on her face — the heavy curled lashes 
of her downcast lids threw black shadows on 
the cheeks, in which there was now not the 
faintest tinge of color. 

“ What was that you said about a hospital ? ” 
she demanded. “ Who is going to a hospital, 
Cara? Who is going? Tell me!” She put 


88 


(A Little Turning Aside 


out a trembling hand, and Cara caught it 
between her two warm palms ; her face grew 
sorrowful, though she tried to keep her voice 
calm and steady. 

“So you heard that,” she said. “What 
sharp ears you’ve got ! Yes ; somebody I 
know is going 'to a hospital — to be well cared 
for and waited on, and made .comfortable ; 
where she will get well and strong and be able 
to take up her art again, quicker than she could 
in the little bare room where she is now half 
the time without companionship or proper 
nourishment.” 

“You are talking about me ! ” Hetty broke 
in, breathlessly. “You told that woman / was 
going — away — to a hospital, and I am not — I 
am 7iot going. Oh ! ” she exclaimed, “ it would 
be cruel — C7'uel — to send me away, to a strange 
place — among strange people. Is this what 
you’ve plotted, just as soon as Mr. Bryce’s 
back is turned ? Because you think I have no 
friends — Go ! ” She threw off Cara’s clasp, and 


(A Bitter Disappointment 


89 


sitting clown heavily in her chair, began rocking 
very fast, repeating positively : “ I am not 

going away from here. No one can make me 
go against my will. I will get well here quicker 
than anywhere else. Oh ! you wicked, deceit- 
ful girl ! ” she bent forward, and her voice rose 
suddenly, shrill, nervous, tense with the fear 
that was growing in her heart ; “ pretending to 
be my friend, and all the time plotting this 
against me — to get rid of me. Oh, you mean, 
cruel, wicked girl ! ” Even as she uttered the 
words there came back to her memory the echo 
of another cry — in an old woman’s weak, quav- 
ering voice — “You’re a wicked, ongrateful, 

onnateral gyrl to leave me ” Who said that ? 

A sudden flash of understanding, of swift and 
subtle sympathy with old Aunt Drusilla’s feel- 
ings that night enlightened Hetty’s soul. It lasted 
but an instant and then went out, leaving her 
oppressed with an awful sense of loneliness, and 
with a longing for the comfort of a mother’s 
love which she had not felt since early childhood. 


90 


cA Little Turning Aside 


Throwing herself back in the rocker, she 
broke into a fit of uncontrollable sobbing. “ Oh, 
why should all this trouble come to me? ” she 
cried, rebelliously. “ I’ve never done anything 
to deserve it. Why should God punish me like 
this? Oh ! why was I born? I won’t go away 
to any miserable, horrid, old hospital. I wo7i t ! 
Oh ! mother ! mother ! ” 

In a moment Cara was on her knees beside 
her friend, clasping her hands, soothing, petting 
her. “ Oh, Hetty dear, it was only for your 
good,” she pleaded, eagerly. “The money is 
almost gone” — she said nothing of how much 
had been added from her slender store to eke 
it out — “and that old skinflint of a landlady 
wouldn’t keep you a day without being paid for 
it ; and you know my aunt is ill — I may have 
to go to her any moment. Think of being here 
all alone ! How would you ever manage ? 
While at the hospital you would be taken the 
very best care of. The nurses are lovely ! I 
know they would be good to you ” 


c/1 Bitter Disappointment 


91 


“They would, indeed,” chimed in Dr. 
Dennis. “ They would be sure to give you 
that bothersome medicine you so often forget 
to take.” He had entered the room in time to 
hear Cara’s last remark, and fancied from it 
that all was arranged, and Hetty willing to go. 
But he was speedily undeceived. 

“ Oh, Dr. Dennis, are you in this plot to 
take me from my home?’^ exclaimed Hetty; 
and the tone of her voice brought a bright red 
into the doctor’s face. Hetty had hastily 
thrown off Cara’s clinging hands and risen to 
her feet. “ Is it because I don’t take my medi- 
cine regularly ? Because I don’t move round 
the room and go out to walk that you want to 
send me to a hospital ? ” she questioned, ignor- 
ing the explanation her friend had just given. 
“ If that is it,” she went on eagerly, ner- 
vously, opening and shutting the hand which 
rested on the back of the old chair, “ if that 
is it, I — I’ll promise to do everything you tell 
nie to — honestly, I will ! Only, please let me 


92 


<A Little Turning Aside 


stay here. I dont want to go to a hospi- 
tal among a lot of sick, strange people, unhappy 
as I am myself. I haven’t walked about much 
— I’ve been afraid — I might as well own it,” 
she caught her breath. “ But I will do it — if 
you’ll only let me stay here. See ; I’ll begin 
now.” She pressed her palms nervously 
together for an instant — as if to give herself 
courage, then, before either of her companions 
guessed the direction she would take, she 
turned and essayed to walk across the room, 
plunging over a low chair, and striking herself 
against the small, wooden table at which she 
had so often sat and worked in happier days. 
She cried out in a quick, frightened way, and 
clung to the two who sprang to her aid. 

“You should have some one with you all 
the time ; this proves it,” exclaimed Dr. Den- 
nis, with unwonted sharpness. 

“ Oh ! but this is my first attempt,” urged 
Hetty. “ To-morrow I will do better ; I know 
I will. Now, mayn’t I stay right on here? I 


c/1 Bitter Disappointment 


93 


will go out to-morrow, too, if you insist on it. I 
will go down and sit on the stoop in the sun. 
Now, mayn’t I stay ? ” 

“ Miss Drayton, why will you not give us 
the address of your home, your relatives, your 
friends?” Dr. Dennis asked abruptly, for 
about the half-dozenth time since Hetty’s illness 
began. “Your people should know of your 

condition. It is not treating them well to ” 

Hetty turned fiercely on him. “No! no! 
no ! ” she cried. “ Once for all, let me tell you 
I have no home, no relatives, no friends.” 
Then her hand came in contact with some 
money — silver — that Cara had laid on the table 
after paying the board bill, and a choking sen- 
sation filled her throat. That was Aunt Dru- 
silla’s money — part of the amount she had sent 
for Hetty to return home. Again that horrid 
loneliness swept over her. “ I have no one — 
I am alone — alone ” — she said, brokenly. “ Oh, 
may I not stay here ? ” 

And the little, soft-hearted, red-haired phy- 


94 


<A Little Turning Aside 


sician gave in. “ Well,” he said, quickly — he 
was careful to avoid Cara’s eyes: “We wont 
say anything more about the hospital just now.” 

So Hetty gained her point and stayed on in 
her bare little room, and Cara came every day 
as usual, and did faithfully all that she could for 
her. 


Chapter II 


For Cara, 


'/lONG her mates Cara bore the reputation 



^ of being a shallow, rather frivolous, 
good-natured girl, on whom life and its responsi- 
bilities sat lightly, but that she also possessed in 
no small degree the divine qualities of sympathy 
and patience was demonstrated in her care of 
Hetty. For Hetty was very far from being a 
pleasant person to be with in these days. 

In her pain and bitter disappointment she 
lost all sense of proportion — her own trial 
loomed up before her, ever-present, gigantic, 
overwhelming, until she had come to believe 
that there could be no affliction, no pain or sor- 
row so hard to bear as hers. She turned impa- 
tiently, scornfully, from sympathy, she refused 
to be encouraged by the hope of ultimate recov- 
ery which the doctor held out, refused to credit 
it, and tortured herself with the prospect of 


95 


96 


c/1 Little Turning Aside 


years of suffering, of blindness, of uselessness. 
Her days were passed in moody, brooding 
silence, varied by fits of bitter weeping and 
wild outbursts of unreasoning anger and sullen 
despair. She railed at the Power which she 
said had sent this dreadful affliction, this cruel 
disappointment, upon her, and through the 
nights Cara often heard her sobbing, sobbing 
for hours at a time, though she had been 
warned that the indulgence of such grief aggra- 
vated her disease. 

Nothing that was done for Hetty gave her 
any comfort, or aroused any gratitude. She 
twisted away impatiently from Cara’s touch, 
and scoffed at her cheering words — she felt 
badly used, disappointed, cheated, and in her 
resentment and defiance threw out all the sharp, 
biting speeches that came to her tongue’s end, 
utterly regardless that they were addressed to 
her best and only friends. Cara’s sympathy 
and tenderness annoyed, and Dr. Dennis’s 
encouragement enraged her. 


For Cara 


97 


“Well for you to talk that way,” she would 
flash out angrily at him ; very easy when it’s 
somebody else that suffers, and not yourself.” 

So she brooded and raged and wept in 
those horrible weeks of darkness, when days 
and nights alike were dreary, miserable, wretch- 
edly unhappy. Long years after she had learned 
the lesson of this illness, and had grown to be 
thankful for it, the remembrance of that storm- 
tossed period would send a cold shiver over 
Hetty. 

But she did not forget the promise she had 
made Dr. Dennis. 

When, in his kindly whimsical way, he said 
to her : “ Let me guide you about the room a 
few times. Miss Drayton, before you undertake 
to go alone. I assure you I can be a most 
trustworthy squire of dames ; my dear old 
blind mother could tell you that,” Hetty’s 
answer was not gracious. 

“I don’t care for any help, thank you. I 
prefer to do it alone,” she said, brusquely. 

7 


98 


(A Little Turning Aside 


But a few minutes later, when he was leav- 
ing, she asked — a little wistfully, he thought : 
“ You say your mother is blind ? ” 

“Yes,” was his reply. “She has been 
blind — not as you are, but actually blind — for 
years. That first led me to make a special 
study of the eyes. And a sweeter, more patient, 
cheerful little woman than she is, it would 
be hard to find anywhere,” he added ; a ring of 
loving pride in his voice, a pleasant light shin- 
ing in his small, bright hazel eyes. 

Hetty sighed heavily ; the corners of her 
mouth drooped. “Ah! but she is an old 
lady,” she said, resentment in her tone. ''She 
didn’t have that terrible affliction come on when 
she was a girl — just when the thing she wanted 
most in all the world was almost in her very 

hands ” She finished abruptly, and, with 

a sharp sob, turned her face away from him 
against the back of her chair. 

“ Didn’t she ? How do* you know about 
that,” remarked the doctor ; then he laughed, 


For Cara. 


99 


the short, merry laugh that secretly Hetty 
resented, and called a “ silly giggle ” — she con- 
sidered her case far too serious for him to be 
so cheerful in her presence. “ Perhaps some 
day I’ll tell you my mother’s story ; then you 
can judge for yourself,” he said. “ Good day !” 

Hetty waited until he had run down the 
narrow, creaking flights of stairs, and shut the 
front door behind him with a gentle bang, then 
she set about fulfilling her promise. 

First, on her hands and knees, she crept 
about the room, carefully feeling every inch of 
way before she trusted herself to make another 
move ; shrinking back in alarm from any unex- 
pected object that met her, and crying like 
a child when her shoulder suddenly came 
in contact with the leg of the table. After 
a while she gained courage to stand upright 
and move cautiously around the little room — 
with one arm folded before her face to shield it 
from possible danger, and one hand extended, 
feeling her way. Round and round the nar- 


oo 


cA Little Turning Aside 


row confines she went, each time with more 
confidence ; by and by coming back to her 
chair with the feeling that she deserved great 
credit for her exertions. But she told no one 
of the effort she had made. 

Early the next morning, after Cara had given 
her her simple breakfast, and gone off to the 
League, Hetty macje another attempt, this time 
far more adventurous. Putting on her hat and 
coat for the first time since that last day of the 
competition, she groped her way carefully, labo- 
riously, along the narrow halls whose darkness 
affected her not in the least, now, and some- 
times clinging to the slender, creaking banisters, 
sometimes hugging the dirty wall, she went 
slowly, fearfully, down the stairs, sliding her 
body from step to step, until she reached the 
stoop. Here, in the same hesitating, cautious 
fashion, she seated herself on the top step, 
huddled against the slight iron railing, through 
which she twisted an arm, to secure herself 
from — she knew not what. 


For Cara 


lOI 


Walking rapidly down the street, Dr. Den- 
nis’s sharp eyes caught sight of Hetty long 
before he reached the stoop. Not a detail 
escaped him — the drooping posture, the expres- 
sion, curiously mingled, of alarm, disgust and 
deep dejection so clearly depicted on her pale 
face, the beautiful curves of throat and cheek, 
the glint of her wavy hair in the sun, the fright- 
ened flutter of her hands at the whoop of a 
child or the rumble of a passing vehicle, the 
nervous shudder of apprehension with which 
she clung to the railing — he took it all in. 

“ By Jove ! She did make a start — and 
alone ! ” he said to himself, with his little laugh. 
“ Poor girl ! ” and here his eyes looked very 
kindly at Hetty. Then he sent his voice ahead 
of him to prepare her for his approach. “ Glad 
to see you out. Miss Drayton,” he called, before 
he got to the stoop. “ So you are following 
the example of ‘little Sally Waters ’ and ‘sit- 
ting in the sun.’ You are wise ! This glori- 
ous air and the bright sunshine must do you 


102 


cA Little Turning Aside 


good. Haven’t you enjoyed it?” He was 
beside her now, and the look of relief that 
flitted across her face at the sound of his voice 
pleased him. 

“ No, indeed, I haven’t enjoyed it,” she 
exclaimed, fretfully, indignantly. “I’ve been 
here— oh, the longest while, it seems to me. 
And the noises have been something horrible ! 
They frightened me ! ” She shuddered. “ Isn’t 
this enough? Mayn’t I go in now? I’m aw- 
fully tired ! ” lifting her white face with its heavy 
closed lids to him. 

“Yes, you’d better go in now,” Dr. Dennis 
answered, kindly. As he helped her up the 
stairs, he added : “Mr. Bryce was right — you 
are brave. ’Twas a plucky thing to go down 
all these steps alone.” 

And for a few minutes this praise gave 
Hetty a faint, fleeting sense of pleasure. “ I 
told you I would, and I always keep my word,” 
she said, proudly. 

She intended to repeat her experiment, but 



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For Cara 


105 


the next day was dark and stormy, with rain 
pelting down, the wind lashing about in wild 
fury and howling dismally around the windows. 
It was a dreary day, and the demons of unrest 
and defiance were rampant in Hetty’s soul. She 
could find neither hope, courage, nor patience ; 
her trial was greater than she could bear, she 
declared — she could not be more wretched or 
unhappy than she was. 

But perhaps she realized there were still 
deeper depths than those she had experienced, 
when at noon the next day Cara came running 
in, with a pale, startled face and almost out of 
breath from haste. “Oh, Hetty! I have to 
start for home this very afternoon,” she cried, 
as she got inside the door. “ Aunty is not so 
well — that’s what the telegram says, but I’m 
awfully afraid she’s a good deal worse, and 
uncle puts it so not to alarm me. She wants 
me to come right home, so I’m to start on the 
6.10 tra ” 

“ Going away I ” broke in Hetty, sitting up 


io6 


(A Little Turning Aside 


in her chair, startled, excited. “ For how long? 
When will you be back? ” 

“I don’t know. That’s the worst of it!” 
Cara’s tone grew very doleful. “ I’m afraid I’ll 
never get back. You see it costs silcJi a lot to 
travel to Tennessee and back, and uncle isn’t 
well off. I’m very much afraid he won’t be able 

to send me on again ” She stopped 

abruptly, and Hetty guessed that the tears 
were not far off 

“ And yet you are going ! ” she said, incredu- 
lously. “Giving up your work at the League 
just when you are beginning to improve ! And 
when your aunt has a whole lot of children of 
her own to take care of her ! You’ll give up 
your work and go and make yourself a perfect 
slave to her ! Cara Etting, if you do that you’re 
a fool ! ” She threw the words out angrily. 

“You’re polite, I must say. Thank you ! ” 
retorted the odier girl, getting red. Then she 
thought of something she had to tell, and her 
good-nature returned. “Why, do you remem- 


For Ca,rd 


107 


ber, Hetty,” she continued, earnestly, “ that 
Aunt Helen took me into her family a poor, for- 
lorn, little orphan child, without money or friends, 
and for nine years,” Hetty scowled, ''nine years 
she has given me a home, food, clothes — every- 
thing ! And now when she is sick and wants 
me by her, would you have me refuse to go — 
just to further my own interests? Why! I’d 
be the most ungrateful, unnatural creature ! ” 
Hetty flounced about in her chair, and kicked 
out her foot impatiently. “ Did she keep you 
down all those nine years, and thwart you in 
everything you wanted and make you do work 
that you fairly hated? ” she demanded. “ Or did 
she,” with a scornful curl of her lip, and sar- 
casm in her voice, “ rear you on rose leaves and 
the fat of the land — let you be an idle princess 
— and make her own brood bow down to you ? 
I just guess she didn’t ! ” 

“Oh, of course there was a difference,” 
admitted Cara, sensibly. “ Naturally enough, 
too. You know,” growing slightly apologetic, 


io8 


(A Little Turning Aside 


“own children come nearer than nieces — that’s 
human nature. But she’s been good to me ; 
she gave me a home when I had none, and,” 
stoutly, “ now that she wants me, I wouldn’t 
disappoint her for the world. It’s my duty to 
go — and I’m going just as fast as the train will 
take me.” 

“ Duty ! duty ! bosh and rubbish ! ” scoffed 
Hetty. “ I guess you’ve done as much any day 
for her as she has for you.” Cara’s words 
stung her, and, she was provoked to find, 
brought a dull, heavy, horrid feeling, that was 
almost a positive ache, into her heart. This 
was not the first time that feeling had troubled 
her — in those dark, unhappy weeks more than 
once the thought of old Aunt Drusilla lying ill, 
perhaps dying, alone, had forced itself upon 
Hetty, and added tenfold to her misery. 

“Yes, duty,” replied Cara, cheerfully, 
though her voice was not quite steady — that 
“something” which had to be told was weigh- 
ing on her. “ And isn’t duty a queer thing, 


For Card 


109 


Hetty? It’s so compelling-. Just think of what 
hard things people will do willingly for duty’s 
sake — things that wild horses couldn’t drive 
them to — though / am going to Aunt Helen of 
my own free will, because I want to. And, do 
you know it, Hetty? — there’s a duty to one’s 
self. It’s very hard, sometimes — but it’s just 
as obligatory ; Aunt Helen used to say so, and 
I know she’s right. Now,” she made a desper- 
ate dash into her subject, “there’s something 
that you have to do, dear, to-day — within an 
hour, perhaps — it’s a duty to yourself, and oh ! 
I hope you’ll do it ! Hetty, dear,” her voice 
grew coaxing, “ I’m going away to-day — I’ve 
got to go — and there is only enough money left 
to pay your board up to to-morrow morning. 
All that Mr. Bryce got for your sketches is gone, 
and your own money that you had put away 
(Aunt Drusilla’s money !) — that horrid board 
day comes round so quickly ! I’ve been able to 
get illustrating to do, you know, and that has 
helped us along ; but that will stop when I go — 


I lO 


cA Little Turning Aside 


and I go this afternoon. I have barely enough 
to get me home, or I’d leave you some — though 
it’s uncle’s money, not mine. Hetty,” she 
caught Hetty’s hand and held it in a close, lov- 
ing clasp, “ Hetty — I’m awfully sorry, dear, 
awfully sorry, but— you will have to go to the 
hospital — now — to-day. You haven’t a cent of 
money left ! ” She held her breath, looking 
anxiously at the face that was turned away from 
her — against the back of the old rocker. Re- 
membering the last time the subject of a hos- 
pital was mentioned, she dreaded a scene. 

But, to her great surprise, there was no 
scene. Describing her friend to some one in 
her Southern home, Cara said afterward : 
“There’s something about Hetty that I never 
got used to ; you could never be sure, before- 
hand, how she’d take a thin or — whether she 

o 

would flare up, or be as meek as a lamb.” 
And this was one of the instances when she 
did not act as was expected. 

Instead of the fierce anger, the burst of 


For Cara 


1 1 1 


stormy upbraiding which Cara anticipated, 
Hetty suddenly sat up and leaned toward the 
girl who knelt by her chair ; her face was work- 
ing with emotion ; two big tears slipped from 
under her heavy lids. “And you have been 
supporting me — earning money to keep me 
here — besides all the rest you’ve done for me ! ” 
she exclaimed, brokenly. “ Oh, why didn’t you 
tell me before? I wouldn’t have imposed on 
you like this — I didn’t know — I never dreamed 
you ” 

But Cara stopped her mouth with a kiss. 
“Oh, my dear, don’t speak of it — please 
don’t ! ” she begged. “ Such a little as I have 
been able to do. I wouldn’t have said a word 
— I’d have kept it up willingly, if uncle hadn’t 
sent for me. And I dreaded — I simply coiildn t 
go off and leave you here, at the mercy of that 
harpy of a landlady. You will go to the hos- 
pital, Hetty? I’d feel so much happier to know 
you were there — being well cared for.” 

A disagreeable recollection of the innumer- 


I I 2 


(A Little Turning Aside 


able times she had snubbed Cara Etting, and 
deliberately ignored her, came back to Hetty’s 
memory ; a great wonder filled her heart. 



Cara, why have you been so good to me ? 


“ Cara, she said, an unusual humility was in her 
voice, and her hand went groping until it 
reached and rested on the shoulder of the kneel- 


For Cara, 


113 


ing girl ; “ Cara, why have you been so good 
to me — so very kind, so patient ? I never was 
— nice — to you. Oh, I don’t deserve it ! Why 
did you do it ? ” 

“Because,” answered Cara, laughing, 
though tears were brimming in her eyes. 
“That’s a woman’s reason, you know. No, 
Hetty — if you must have it — I did it because I 
wanted to ; because it gave me pleasure to 
help you — really and truly! You will go to 
the hospital, won’t you ? Dr. Dennis knows 
about my telling you this to-day, and he thinks 
you should go, too. Will you, Hetty?” 

“Yes — yes — oh, yes! I will do what you 
wish — go anywhere you say I should,” answered 
Hetty, with feverish eagerness. 


8 


Chapter III 

In the Court-yard 

T N the hurried packing which ensued Hetty 
insisted on taking a share, directing Cara 
where to find her few possessions, even stum- 
bling about the little room in an attempt to expe- 
dite matters, which, however, rather retarded 
than helped. Not a murmur escaped her lips, 
and Cara could see she was making a great 
effort to appear cheerful. 

When Dr. Dennis came in, about two 
o’clock, all preparations were completed, and 
Hetty sat waiting, with her hat and jacket on. 
He, too, had expected a violent scene, and was 
agreeably disappointed. On the strength of 
her quiet, composed manner he grew quite 
elated, and made a few remarks. “I’m glad 
you are so sensible. Miss Drayton,” he said, 
when Cara had left the room for a few minutes. 

114 


In the Court-yard 1 1 5 

“ I felt sure your good sense would assert itself, 
and you’d be willing to go to the hospital when 
you knew how matters stood. It is really the 
proper place for you ; you will improve much 
faster there, and be more comfortable.” 

He was astonished at the way she turned 
on him. In a moment her composure was 
gone ; her face was working, her lips trembling. 
“ Willing ! ” she cried out, indignantly. “ Who 
said I was willing ? I loathe the very thought 
— I hate it — I detest it ! I’m going because I 
can’t help myself. I haven’t a cent of money, 
so I can’t stay here — landladies like mine don’t 
keep on impecunious lodgers.” She gave a 
short, bitter laugh. “ I’m going to please Cara 
— she’s been good to me ! And for that same 
reason I’m trying to make no fuss. But to go 
from here, where everything is so familiar, to a 
strange, horrid place, full of strange and sick 
people — why, anybody might know how hard 

willing, indeed ! When I dread it ! Don’t 

say that again, please.” 


(A Little Turning Aside 


1 16 


But when Cara came back she found her 
friend apparently quiet and calm as she had 
left her. And that manner Hetty managed to 
keep up until the moving was accomplished, 
and she was well inside the high gray walls 
which surrounded the hospital, and until she 
had parted from Cara. Then all her enforced 
self-control deserted her, and she broke down 
in a wild passion of tears and sobs, utterly 
refusing to be comforted. 

For several days, as well as nights, she lay 
in bed in her new, unfamiliar quarters, with her 
face buried in the pillows, weeping, fretting, in 
a suppressed, piteous fashion, and now and 
then rousing up to a storm of bitter lamentation 
over her misfortune. For a few days this was 
allowed — when she had curtly set aside the 
sympathy and encouragement that was offered 
— and no one interfered with her disposal of 
her time. But one bright forenoon the nurse 
under whose charge she was kindly but decid- 
edly insisted on Hetty’s rising and dressing 


In the Court-yard 


117 


herself; the doctor had left orders for her to 
take a walk in the court-yard for half an hour 
or longer. 

Discipline was the law of the hospital, and, 
greatly to her own surprise, Hetty found herself 
obeying. 

As soon as she was ready one of the 
nurses led Hetty along the wide hall to the 
front door and out into the flat, paved court- 
yard. “Now all you have to do is to walk 
about in the lovely morning sunshine,” she 
said, in an encouraging tone of voice. “There 
are no steps to trip you up — nothing anywhere 
that can hurt you. And there is no fear of 
your wandering out into the street, for the 
yard is enclosed by high walls. Go on — it’ll do 
you good.” She patted Hetty’s shoulder and 
gave her a gentle push forward. 

But the girl shrank back. “I can’t go 
alone — I am afraid ! ” she declared. 

“ Why there’s nothing to be afraid of — not 
a thing here that could possibly hurt you,” the 


ii8 


(A Little Turning Aside 


nurse assured her. Then, as Hetty still clung 
to the side of the door, she added firmly, but 
not unkindly: “Well, I can’t spare the time 
to go around with you — a lot of poor, sick, 
suffering people are waiting for me to attend 
to them. But I’ll call Joie. He 
is the matron’s little son — he 
has a growth forming on the 
back of one of his eyes ; though 
you’d never know it to look at 
him. And he is the best nat- 
ured, brightest youngster ! ” 
“The most heedless, loo,” she 
might have added, but she didn’t. “Joie! Joie!” 
she called, “come take this nice girl for a walk 
round the yard.” 

“All right ! ” shouted a lusty young voice. 
Small feet came scampering along the hail, and 
a warm little hand caught tight hold of Hetty’s 
reluctant fingers. 

“ Now you’re all right,” said the nurse, and 
hurried away. 



In the Court-yard 


119 


“I’ll take you round,” offered Joie, with a 
great air of pride. “ Come ’long,” and he 
pulled her out into the sunshine. “ There 
isn’t any trees or things to fall over,” he 
assured her ; “ so you needn’t be ’fraid.” 

But Hetty was afraid — dreadfully afraid. 
A horrible nervous apprehension seized her 
before they had gone half a dozen feet from 
the door ; and it grew upon her until finally 
she stopped short, refusing to take another 
step forward. 

In vain Joie urged, and offered explanations. 
“ I want to go back to the house. Take me 
back this very minute ! ” she commanded, turn- 
ing, as she supposed, toward the doorway from 
which she had just started. But in reality 
she was now facing in an entirely opposite 
direction. 

“ Huh ! that isn’t right,” cried Joie, in fine 
scorn, meanwhile tugging at her hand to turn 
her around, Hetty strenuously resisting. 

Which would have won the day remains 


120 


c/l Little Turning Aside 


unrecorded, for just then came a call of “ Joie ! 
Joie ! where are you ? ” from somewhere in the 
upper part of the big building, and Joie 
instantly dropped the hand he had been holding 
onto. “That’s my mother,” he informed his 
charge. “ She wants me,” and off he darted, 
leaving the blind girl alone in the court-yard. 

No words can express the wild, unreason- 
ing, awful terror that then laid hold upon 
Hetty. All self-control deserted her. The rush 
of the elevated trains, thundering along over- 
head, the clang-clang of the surface cars on the 
avenue and cross-street, the dull rumble of 
wagons going by, the shrill voices of the children 
at play outside the high gray walls, the hum 
and roar of the great city — all lost its signifi- 
cance and became to her nervous, excited 
imagination a most terrible pandemonium — an 
appalling, on-rushing foe, bringing worse than 
death and destruction in its train. Eager — wild 
— to fly from it, she yet dared not take a step 
in any direction. What yawning chasm, what 


In the Court-yard 


I2I 


pitfalls, what awful dangers might be on every 
side ! She stood rooted to the ground, tremb- 
ling in every limb ; drops of cold perspiration 
gathered on her forehead. Clinching her hands 
in a paroxysm of desperate fright she shrieked 
aloud, “ Help ! help ! oh, help ! ” And then she 
uttered the first prayer that had crossed her 
lips for over a year — the first fervent, heartfelt 
prayer of her life. “ Oh, God ! God ! help me,” 
she cried. “ Oh, deliver me from this awful 
danger ! ” 

In her intense agitation she had not heard 
the entrance gate of the hospital open — she had 
not the slightest idea there was any gate near 
her ; nor did she know that two people had 
entered the yard. One of them had seen her ; 
was gazing at her with an expression of the 
deepest, kindest — almost tender — commisera- 
tion. Both had heard her piteous cry, her 
earnest prayer ; and the hurried whisper : “ Go 
to her at once, Jap. Go quickly, my son. Oh, 
poor child ! ” was hardly begun when Dr. 


122 


(A Little Turning Aside 


Dennis’s voice reached Hetty, and his hand was 
laid on her arm. 

She clung to him, trembling violently ; in a 
rapture of relief, though tears were flowing fast 
down her cheeks. “ Oh, I am so thankful you 
have come ! It was wicked to leave me here 
all alone! Oh, it was awful! — awful!'' she 
cried out brokenly, between heavy sobs ; still 
clutching on to his arm, his shoulder. 

When she had grown calmer he said, 
quietly, “ Now I am going to take you for a 
walk around the yard, No, don’t get nervous,” 
as a violent shudder shook her, and her grasp 
tightened ; his voice was soothing, yet firm. 
“There is absolutely nothing to be afraid of — 
your fears would vanish in a minute, and you 
would laugh at yourself if you could see what 
a simple, unterrifying place this is. I think you 
trust me ? Then listen to what I’m going to 
say, and believe me : This yard that we are in 
is a large, paved square, surrounded by a high 
stone wall — a good deal higher than your or 



“ She did not know that two people had entered the yard, 


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In the Court-yard 


125 


my head. This wall is to protect those that 
walk in here from the observation of outsiders 
— passers-by. The flagging is perfectly level 
— as smooth and even as the back of your 
hand. There is no step, up or down, any- 
where, no ascent or descent ; there are no trees 
against which to stumble or bruise one’s self ; 
no benches, no chairs, no object whatever over 
which you could fall. As I’ve told you — there 
is no possible way in which one could get hurt 
in this place. Do you believe me?” 

She nodded, with a long-drawn quivering 
sigh that was half a sob. “ Then we’ll start on 
our travels round the yard,” he said, cheerfully. 
He spoke loud enough for the lady who had 
entered with him, and who still stood by the 
gate, to hear his remark. 

She was a little, spare woman with calm, 
thoughtful eyes which it was difficult to realize 
were sightless, and with curves about the cor- 
ners of her mouth betokening a keen sense of 
humor. On meeting her with her son even a 


126 


c/l Little Turning Aside 


casual observer could readily guess from whom 
Dr. Dennis inherited his light-heartedness. 
Now as she caught his words she smiled and 
waited patiently. 

Round the yard went those other two, 
slowly yet with firm, even step, the doctor chat- 
ting in his customary merry, half serious 
fashion, and, after a while requiring answers 
from Hetty. And gradually the frightened 
expression faded from her face, her voice 
recovered its usual tone. Then it was that he 
said . “ Now, it happens that I’ve brought you 

a visitor this morning ; and what d’you think? 
— she’s been standing by the gate all this time, 
waiting while we’ve been promenading. Here 
is the gate — put out your hand and touch it. 
And here is the lady — the dearest, brightest, 
best little women in all the world ! — my 
mother — Miss Drayton.” 

He took a hand of each and laid them palm 
to palm, his fingers resting lightly upon theirs 
for an instant. “ I hope you two will grow to 


In the Court-yard 


127 


be friends,” he said, an unwonted earnestness 
in his manner ; then he added, with his gay 
little laugh, “ Now, Miss Drayton, my mother’s 
society is the best tonic I know of ; if sh^ fails 
to benefit you I shall wash my hands of you in 
despair. Now go ahead and get acquainted, 
while I see after my other patients.” 

He strode across the yard toward the house, 
but paused in the doorway and looked back 
at the two he had left — at the serene-faced 
little woman, and at the tall girl who walked 
beside her, with the heavy black lashes lying 
dark against her pale cheeks, and her bright 
hair shining under the brim of the shabby old 
sailor-hat she wore. 

As he stood looking, Mrs. Dennis took 
Hetty’s hand and drew it through her arm, 
and the two began pacing up and down a 
corner of the sunny yard. 

Dr. Dennis stroked his short, reddish beard, 
an expression of satisfaction in his eyes. “If 
mother can’t help her, nobody can,” he said. 


128 


c4 Little Turning Aside 


reflectively; “but she will — she will. Wise 
little mother!” Softly he whistled a bar or 
two of “The Franklynn’s dogge leped over a 
style,” then turned and went into the house, 
with a broad smile on his face. 


PART III 
Victory 


c/lnd sometimes count a failure 
as a •victory •won* 




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Chapter / 

A Ne<w Friend 

Mrs. Dennis drew Hetty’s hand through 
her arm she gave it a friendly little pat. 
“There,” she said, in a tone of cheerful satis- 
faction ; “ now we can walk comfortably together 
— in step. Isn’t the air delicious this morn- 
ing ? — like a breath of spring. It brings back 
to me what I call my ‘ country recollections.’ 
They are of trees and shrubs in their first fresh 
coat of tender green — you know that tint ; it 
comes but once a year ; of violets, too, and the 
sturdy little wind-flowers pushing their heads 
through the snow ; of apple and peach and 
cherry trees in bridal array filling the country 
round with their perfume ; of gurgling brooks 
let loose from winter’s icy grasp ; of blue skies 
and warm, glorious sunshine. These are mine 
— have you recollections, too ? Are you country 
enough to know and love these things ? ” 


131 


132 


c/l Little Turning Aside 


“ Know them ! ” exclaimed Hetty ; she 
stopped abruptly, with a horrid choking sensa- 
tion in her throat. “ I love them ! I just long 
for them ! ” she cried out, passionately. “But 
I shall never see the country again ! ” 

“ Why, yes you will, my dear,” Mrs. Dennis 
assured her, with a quick, sympathetic pressure 
of the girl’s arm against her side. “You will 
get well ; my son says so, and,” her voice full 
of motherly pride, “ his opinion is to be de- 
pended on. With a disease like yours it is 
not possible to say just howlong.it will last, 
but, so far, Jasper is encouraged by the pro- 
gress you have made You certainly will get 
well ; and the more cheerful you are, the greater 
effort you make to shake off despondency, the 
quicker will be your recovery. You know yours 
is not blindness ; the sight of your eyes is 
unharmed — you should be most thankful for 
that ! This is not an affliction that will be 
with you all your life. Oh, no, it is but a 
little turning aside from your usefulness— 


A New Friend 


133 


for some wise purpose of our Heavenly 
Father.” 

“Oh, but why should it have com^ jiist 
when it did ? And why to 7}ie — of all the girls 
at the League? ” burst out Hetty, excitedly, all 
the old hard defiance in her voice. “ If It 
had even been any other trouble I could have 
endured It. But my eyes ! — so that I can’t 
work ! What’ve I done that God should send 
this to 7nef I’m no worse than hundreds, thou- 
sands of other girls In the world, and they go 
along as smoothly as possible and have every- 
thing they want. Just when I had that beauti- 
ful, splendid chance, too — almost In my very 
hands ! Why should He have punished me in 
this awful way?” Her voice broke ; her lips 
were trembling, the lump In her throat was so 
big and hard that It gave her an actual pain, 

“ But are' you sure It is a punishment, my 
dear?” asked Mrs. Dennis, kindly. She felt 
Hetty’s start of indignant surprise, but went 
quietly on with her remarks. “ I have known 


134 


cA Little Turning Aside 


what seemed to be the greatest of trials — 
almost too heavy for human strength to endure 
— turn out in the end a blessing of priceless 
value. I know this illness has been a great 
shock to you, and brought you a bitter disap- 
pointment — Jasper has told me all about it — 
and my heart is full of warm sympathy for 
you.” Again Hetty’s arm received a gentle 
pressure. 

“It is hard — to be stricken down, set aside 
— useless — at the very time when strength and 
usefulness meant so much to you,” continued 
Mrs. Dennis. “But, my dear, don’t call this 
visitation cruel; don’t,” very earnestly, '' don t 
say it is a punishment, don’t think so until you 
see the end of the trial, for it may prove to be 
worth far more to you, in an immeasurably 
higher degree than the winning of that prize 
could have been, or the study in France. My 
son tells me you have a brave face, Miss 
Drayton, and I feel sure you have that quality 
in your nature. Oh, be patient, too, and sen- 


A New Friend 


135 


sible, my dear ; all those will help you to a 
quicker recovery. Will you ? ” 

Her voice was very sweet and winning ; 
but Hetty did not answer immediately. They 
had walked the length of the wall and turned 
before she said : “But two years is such 2. long 
time ! I shall lose in every way — with no 
instruction, no practice. Oh, sometimes I feel 
as if I coiildn t endure this horrible, tiresome 
waiting !” But for all her impatient words, it 
seemed to Mrs. Dennis’ quick ears that there 
was a shade less of hopelessness in her tone. 

“ Two years may seem a good while to look 
forward to, but they will pass more swiftly than 
you expect. Now see if they don’t,” she 
remarked, in her pleasant, cheerful way. 
“The ability you have will not suffer by an 
enforced idleness like this — only grow stronger, 
finer, and of a higher quality ; if you choose to 
make it so. Why, child, you know the beauties 
of Nature — you love them. I’m sure you do. 
What limit is there, then, to the pictures you 


c/l Little Turning Aside 


136 


can form in your mind ? Put away gloomy and 
sorrowful thoughts, and make for yourself, in 
your inner consciousness, the pictures which 
will be helpful to you, comforting, sustaining. 
Make them beautiful, brood tenderly and hope- 
fully over them, arrange every detail, fix them 
well in your memory. Then, when the happy 
day comes that you are restored to usefulness 
your two years will not have been wasted. 
You can then put your pictures on canvas and 
send them out in the world to give delight to 
many, and, it may be, hope and courage to 
those whose souls are wrung with pain and 
sorrow.” 

Again Hetty gave a start, this time not in 
indignation but surprise. The thought of help- 
ing others was not one that had come often to 
her mind. 

“ But it is so awiuWy hard to keep from 
thinking of all I’ve lost,” she said presently — 
she had been following out an unaccustomed 
train of thought, but broke off in the middle 


A New Friend 


137 


and went back to the old subject. “ I sup- 
pose it doesn’t do any good — but I keep think- 
ing of the Paris Prize, and all it would have 
brought me — I ca7i t put it out of my head — 
though it does make me so wretched ! You 
see,” a faint satisfaction cominor into her voice, 
“ I am the only girl — the only woman ” — she 
hastily corrected herself, and knew nothing of 
Mrs. Dennis’s indulgent smile, “ that has ever 
been allowed to compete for the Prize ; and I 
was so siu'e of winning it ! I would have won 
it,” throwing up her head proudly, as she had 
not for weeks ; “I certainly woitlci ; I know 
Mr. Bryce thought So — if this — horrid — thing — 
hadn’t happened. Oh, I did want to win that 
prize — more than anything else in all the 
world ! It would’ve been such an honor — and ” 
— -defiantly, “I’d just like to have shown some 
people what I could do. And all that money — 
7 iine hundred dollars a year for five years !” the 
awe with which she gave the figures was almost 
pathetic — “would have given me such splendid 


138 


c/l Little Turning Aside 


advantages — instruction under the very finest 
artists in Paris. That was the part I liked the 
best ; I wanted to learn all I possibly could — 
all that could be taught me, so I could paint a 
grand, wonderful picture, and get to be famous. 
I’ve thought of that picture for years ; I’ve felt 
it here in my heart eyer since I was a scrap of 
a child. And now — comes this !"' She caught 
her breath with a nervous little gasp, and began 
taking long, uncertain strides that put her out 
of step with her companion. 

“ My dear, compare two years with thirty- 
five, and be thankful for your light affliction.” 
Mrs. Dennis brought Hetty to a sudden halt, 
and turning so that the two stood face to face, 
she laid her hand over the fingers that rested 
on her arm. “ After the first year of my happy 
married life, I never beheld my beloved hus- 
band’s countenance,” she said, with deep feel- 
ing. “ I shall have only the bright, eager face 
of his youth to guide me to him in heaven — 
where the blind shall have sight. My first 


A New Friend 


139 


child, my only daughter, though she lived fifteen 
years, will ever be to me the baby on whom I 
looked before this darkness came upon me. 
My son’s face I have never seen — I never shall 
see until we meet above. Thirty-five years of 
blindness ! And yet ” — her voice grew cheer- 
ful, sweet — “ I have, oh, so much, so very much 
for which to thank a good and loving God ! 
Two years — perhaps less, Jasper tells me — 
only two years at the very most, and you may 
take up your art again — take it up, a poor, 
miserable, morbid, selfish creature, with thought 
and care only for yourself ; or you can take it 
up a braver, stronger, truer, Christian soul, 
filled with the divine sympathy which comes of 
suffering nobly borne • and better able to do 
good work because of this little turning aside. 
Which is it to be ?” 

Hetty could not see the expression of 
exaltation on the blind woman’s face, but the 
high sentiment, the brave words, the earnest, 
tender voice of her new friend appealed to 


140 


c/l Little Turning Aside 


her in a most unexpected fashion. Her heart 
swelled, and its throbs quickened heavily, as 
if she were listening to grand, solemn martial 
music. Strange, vague longings stirred her — 
a glimpse of something better, nobler than she 
had known came to her, and with it a deep, 
inexpressible sadness. Two tears slipped from 
under her heavy lids and rolling swiftly down 
her face splashed upon the hand that held hers. 
“ Oh, help me to be good !” she pleaded, 
simply as a child. 

“ Ay ; that will I !” answered Mrs. Dennis, 
cheerily. “Where is your face, you tall girl ?” 
Gropingly, she reached up and drawing Hetty’s 
face down to her level, kissed her warmly. 
“There!” she said, smilincr, “that is the sio-n 
and seal of our compact. Now we must take 
the constitutional Doctor prescribed, or he’ll 
scold us. And as we walk I will tell you of 
the cosy, happy home in which my son and I 
live.” 

They were slowly pacing to and fro and talk- 


A New Friend 


141 

\ng when Dr. Dennis joined them. It needed 
not the cheerful ring of his mother’s voice to 
tell him the interview had not failed of its pur- 
pose, one look at Hetty’s face assured him on 
that score. In place of the dismal droop which 
had for so long disfigured them, a faint smile of 
interest now stirred her lips, and into her white 
cheeks had stolen a -tinge of color ; the first the 
doctor had seen there. 

“Will you come again ?” Hetty asked, diffi- 
dently, when her visitor was going. 

“ Of course I shall ; I shall be very glad to,” 
was the friendly response. “And when you 
are stronger, and less nervous, pretty soon, I 
hope, you must come to see me. We live not 
far from here — my son will bring you — will you 
not, Jap? and we can’ have a nice visit 
together.” Then her arms reached up again 
and drew Hetty’s bright head down to her. 
“ Good-bye, my dear,” she whispered. “ Keep 
a brave heart. If unhappy thoughts press upon 
you heavily, you know Where to go for help to 


142 


(A Little Turning Aside 


banish them. Tell God all that troubles you — . 
ask Him for courage ; and you will get it. I’m 
sure you will — I speak whereof I know. And 
I will be praying for you, too. Good-bye !” 

Long after she had gone Hetty felt the 
pressure of the soft old cheek against hers, the 
touch of the kind whispering lips on her ear, 
and the close, firm clasp of Mrs. Dennis’s 
friendly hand. She was very quiet for the rest 
of that day, though not morose, nor so dejected 
as usual. In thought she went over and over 
every incident of the morning’s visit ; the blind 
woman’s brave, hopeful words lingered in her 
memory, and, although she failed to trace the 
influence, inspired her with a faint degree of 
courage. 

In her limited circle of acquaintances, Hetty 
had never known any one like Mrs. Dennis. 
Aunt Drusilla was certainly very different, and 
so were her “ignorant cronies” — so Hetty 
called them in her musing — widi their narrow, 
illiberal. views of life, their suspicion of and con- 


A New Friend 


H3 


tempt for everything that had not come within 
their own restricted experience and knowledge, 
and was not according to their small line and 
measure. Hetty was apt to get very angry 
when she thought of “those horrid, stupid 
Pendleton people !” They were not to be com- 
pared with this kind, bright woman she had 
iust met — Dr. Dennis’s mother. She had 
spoken very frankly — “ right plain out ” — Hetty 
had to admit, but somehow, there had been no 
sting in her remarks — Hetty had cried, but not 
from anger. Hetty had never cared for old 
ladies, and, with such a grown-up son, the girl 
told herself, of course Mrs. Dennis must be old, 
but her manners were not at all in accordance 
with Hetty’s ideas of advanced age. With the 
recollection of the tenderness in her new friend’s 
voice, those kind, motherly kisses, there came 
a queer little thrill in the girl’s heart. 

Yes, Mrs. Dennis was entirely different 
from any one else she had ever known. Even 
Miss Fanshawe did not come up to her, though 


144 


(A Little Turning Aside 


she had been very nice and kind, too — but 
Hetty did not wish to think of Miss Fanshawe’s 
kindness. Quickly she turned her thoughts 
again to Mrs. Dennis. Those thirty-five years 
of blindness — how had she ever endured them ? 
TJlirty-Jive years! Oh, terrible! And yet 
how cheerful she was, even merry ! What a 
contagious laugh she had — once or twice Hetty 
had had to join in it. How interesting was 
her conversation as they walked about in the 
pleasant sunshine. Hetty had never heard 
any one talk as she did — of books, of places 
and people that were famous in the world, 
though very often unknown to her young 
listener ; of stirring events that were happen- 
ing at home and abroad, and of many other 
matters which either had never entered into 
Hetty’s knowledge, or had been crowded quite 
out of it by the one idea which had absorbed 
her. She had not been able to follow, to 
understand, all that was said ; nevertheless 
she had felt a certain enjoyment in it. 


A New Friend 


145 


Thirty-five years of total blindness ! Her 
mind harked back to it. Mrs. Dennis had told 
Hetty she had no relatives in the world save 
her son — of necessity his profession must often 
call him away from her — she couldn’t read or 
sew, nor could she go out alone. Oh, the 
many, many lonely hours she must have spent ! 
And yet she had said — the tone of convic- 
tion still rung in Hetty’s ears : “ I have, oh, 

so much, so very much for which to thank a 
good and loving God ! ” 

There came to Hetty a sudden conception 
of the great courage and faith of this woman. 
Thirty-five years, and for all the rest of her 
life — total darkness ! and in less than two 
years — less than two years, that was what the 
doctor had said, she, Hetty, would be cured — 
would have back her full, perfect sight, and be 
able to take up her work again. Oh ! — to look 
upon the sunshine once more ! — to hold a brush 
in her hand ! She caught her breath. The 
heavy, thick black cloud of despondency that 


146 


(A Little Turning Aside 


had settled down upon her, and enveloped — 
wrapped her around — since that awful Satur- 
day at the League seemed now to lift a little, 
to grow lighter, and a ray of hope entered her 
soul. For the first time it occurred to her that 
her trial might have been worse. 

“It might have been thirty-five years of 
blindness for — 77te — and it’s two ! ” she exclaimed 
aloud ; and her heart gave a quick throb. 

“Indeed, you have a right to be mighty 
thankful,” remarked one of the nurses who, 
going by at the moment, had heard Hetty’s 
words. “The little doctor says you are doing 
beautifully. There will not have to be any 
operation — you can get well without it. You 
ought to thank your lucky stars, I can tell you ! 
Many a one in this hospital would be willing to 
be as well off as you are in that respect. That 
poor old soul next to you, for instance,” drop- 
ping her voice — “that German; she is losing 
not only her sight, but her eyes at the same 
time — enduring agony past description ! That 


A New Friend 


147 


girl on your left is another great sufferer ; and 
that young woman next to her — she is a widow, 
and mother of two helpless babies — without 
a cent in the world ! And that unfortunate 
child over there in the corner — her eyes smart 
and burn and ache in a way that would drive a 
grown person crazy. Poor little Minty ! Oh, 
I could tell you of lots more — but I won’t ; I’ll 
spare you. Yours is almost the lightest case 
here, though, of course, it is painful at times, 
and very tedious. Now, if you wanted to,” 
she added, ''you could do many little things to 
help the others that are worse off than your- 
self. You could go and talk to the poor old 
woman to cheer her up a little ” 

“ Oh, no ! I couldn’t!” Hetty hastily drew 
herself away from the hand on her arm that 
would have guided her to the next bedside. 
“ I wouldn’t know what to say to her,” she 
declared, almost resentfully. 

But the following day, when the old woman 
was moaning and tossing about on her pillow, 


148 


cA Little Turning Aside 


with incoherent mutterings of German and 
broken English, Hetty slowly groped her way 
to her. 

“ Fm sorry you are in such pain,” was all 
she could find to say ; and she understood very 
little of the long story which was immediately 
poured out, in an almost unintelligible jargon. 
But she put in a “ yes ” or “ no,” whenever a 
significant pause seemed to require an answer 
of some sort. She realized how little she had 
done, and the old woman’s fervent: “T’ank 
you ! I t’ank you ! ” gave her an uncomfortable 
and unaccustomed feeling of dissatisfaction 
with herself. 

Under the influence of this feeling she 
made her way along the hall and out into the 
court-yard without asking for assistance. She 
was walking slowly and somewhat uncertainly 
— back and forward, when Dr. Dennis came 
in for his daily visit. 

“ Ah ! good morning ! ” he called out, 
cheerfully. “I see that the fears of yesterday 


A New Friend 


149 


have taken wings unto themselves and flown 
away — for all time, I hope.” 

“ No, they haven’t,” answered Hetty, turn- 
ing in the direction of his voice. “ That hor- 
rible frightened feeling came on when I first 
started out, but I wouldn t give in to it.” She 
threw her head back with the proud little ges- 
ture to which the doctor was becoming accus- 
tomed ; and he noticed the resolute set of her 
lips. 

“ Good for you ! ” he declared, with his 
short laugh. “ As they sang of the man in 
• Pinafore ’ — ‘ It is greatly — to — your credit ! ’ 
You are establishing a reputation for plucki- 
ness ; keep it up ! ” And he passed on whist- 
ling a bar or two of Sullivan’s lively opera. 

And in the days that followed Hetty did 
make an effort to be what her new friend had 
urged — “ brave and sensible ; ” but she found 
it difficult. The habit of introspection, of mor- 
bid brooding to which she had given way for 
so long was hard to overcome ; the cloud of 


(A Little Turning Aside 


150 


despondency had only lightened, not gone. 
There were still days — many of them — when 
she could think of naught but her great dis- 
appointment ; days when she went down into 
the depths, and refused to be cheered or 
comforted. 

Almost daily Dr. Dennis — “ the little doc- 
tor,’’ the nurses called him among themselves 
— brought Hetty a message of good cheer 
from his mother. And sometimes with it was 
a tiny “posy” of winter flowers, “grown in 
mother’s window box,” Hetty was told. But 
Mrs. Dennis had not called again at the hos- 
pital ; nor had anything more been said about 
Hetty’s going to see her. Hetty’s memory 
dwelt continually on that pleasant, helpful 
talk, and on the invitation then given ; but she 
had begun to lose the hope of another meet- 
ing with her friend ; and the message Dr. 
Dennis brought her one morning came as a 
pleasant surprise. 

“ My mother sends you her love, Miss 


A Ne^ Friend 


51 


Drayton,” he said ; his professional duties at 
the hospital were over, and, coming into the 
little anteroom, he stood by the window-bench 
where sat Hetty. 

She had gained enough courage now to 
make her way all about that first floor ; and 
she was especially fond of that sunny window- 
nook. Two children shared it with her this 
morning, and their presence there spoke well 
for the new spirit which Mrs. Dennis had 
invoked, feeble though it yet was. Joie was 
one, and, though Hetty felt a liking for the 
sturdy little fellow, she grew nervous when he 
came near, for Joie was brimming over with life 
and good spirits, and one never could be cer- 
tain what direction his restless, strong young 
legs and arms would take. The other child 
was the little unfortunate the nurse had spoken 
of. She wore a wide bandage over her eyes ; 
and endured her sufferings with the fortitude 
of a Spartan. But she was not a pleasant 
child to have about one, and her whining voice 


152 


c/1 Little Turning Aside 


irritated Hetty. Still, when one of the nurses 
brought the children to the window-seat and 
asked her to “ keep them quiet for a while,” 
Hetty did not rise and walk away in an angry 
huff, as might have been the case two or three 
weeks earlier. Instead she said: “Well,” 
which was accepted as an assent. The chil- 
dren climbed up beside her, and — with a re- 
straining hand on Joie’s plump legs — in response 
to a clamorous demand for a story, she had 
just begun the time-honored formula of “ Once 
upon a time,” when Dr. Dennis walked into the 
room, and began delivering his message. 

But first he had taken a good look at the 
group in the wide window seat ; at sturdy, 
bright-eyed Joie, whose short dark hair stood 
up in little curly spears all over his round head ; 
at Minty, with suffering written in every line of 
her white, patient, wizened face, and at the tail 
girl in the shabby blue gown, who was saying : 
“ Once upon a time,” and whose bright wavy 
hair took on a warmer tint in the sunshine. 



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A New Friend 


155 


Dr. Dennis thought it the most beautiful hair 
he had ever seen. As he looked at it a glow 
came into his eyes ; and when he spoke there 
was an odd thrill in his voice. 

“ My mother sends you her love, Miss 
Drayton,” he said, ruthlessly interrupting the 
story. “She has not been quite well lately; 
but is all right again, and, if it please your 
ladyship, she would like the pleasure of your 
company to lunch to-day. She would like you 
to spend the afternoon with her. I have made 
arrangements here, in case you care to go, and 
I will be your faithful squire to and fro — giving 
my life,if need be, for your safety.” He was look- 
ing intently into the eager face uplifted to him. 

The color sprang into Hetty’s cheeks ; her 
mouth broke into a pleased smile. “ Oh, how 
lovely!” she exclaimed. “Of course I’ll go.” 

“ Ow ! but yez ain’t tole us de story ! ” 
protested Minty, catching a fold of the blue 
gown in her clawlike little fingers, while Joie 
precipitated himself to the floor and proceeded 


(A Little Turning Aside 


156 


to embrace Dr. Dennis’s legs. “ Now you just 
go ’way,” he commanded, trying to push his 
friend toward the door. “ She’s goin’ to tell 
us ’bout a bear, an’ I want to hear it.” 

But Hetty, unceremoniously put Minty’s 
fingers aside, and rose to her feet. “I should love 
to go,” she said, eagerly. “ Shall I get ready ? ” 

“Yes,” was the answer; “go ahead; and 
while 3’ou are putting on your things I’ll thrill 
these youngsters with the adventures of the 
‘gently-smiling crocodile,’ and the rest of that 
jolly crew.” 

When Hetty returned to the room a little 
later, drawing on her gloves — ready to start, 
the doctor sat in the window nook with forlorn, 
unlovely little Minty on his knee, and Joie 
leaning confidingly against him. The children 
were laughing and chuckling over the marvel- 
ous adventures of “ Alice in Wonderland ’ — 
at least Joie was. Minty rarely did more than 
smile — and they parted from the story-teller 
with loud expressions of regret. 


Chapter II 


Unusual Experiences 

"XV/HEN they got outside the hospital gates 
Dr. Dennis drew Hetty’s hand through 
his arm. “ I believe it’s not good form for us 
to walk arm in arm in broad daylight,” he said, 
with his little laugh ; somehow in these days it 
did not seem so much of a “giggle ” to Hetty ; 
“but neither you nor I am afraid of Mrs. 
Grundy. And I can take better care of you 
by having you right under my wing. We live 
only a few blocks from here,” he went on, cast- 
ing a swift look at the girlish face, which was 
very little, if any, below the level of his own, 
“ and you may be sure I shall take the best care 
of you. No matter how confusing the noises 
may be, or how terrifying they may sound to 
your ears, don’t let your fears run away with 
your faith in me. I will guard you from all 

157 


>58 


(A Little Turning Aside 


danger — no harm shall befall you. You do trust 
me ? ” It was a question rather than a statement. 

“ Yes,” answered Hetty, without hesitation. 
She could not see the wave of color which 
passed over Dr. Dennis’s face ; but the support 
of his strong arm gave her a certain sense of 
security, and as he piloted her through the 
crowded street and across the wide avenue, 
thronged with vehicles of every description, in 
spite of her extreme nervousness — perhaps 
because of it — there came to Hetty a new, 
pleasant feeling of being cared for. 

The Dennises lived on the first floor of a 
large, roomy, old-fashioned house, which had 
been turned into “apartments,” and Mrs. 
Dennis met her visitor with a warm welcome, 
“lam so glad to have you here,” she said, 
drawing Hetty into the cosy sitting-room. 
“Jasper is late ; I began to fear you could not 
come, and I did want a visit with you to-day. 
Now we’ll have lunch ; after that my son has a 
lecture to give ; then you and I shall have the 


Unusual Experiences 


159 


house to ourselves, and can gossip to our 
hearts’ content.” 

As she spoke she helped Hetty divest her- 
self of her hat and coat, then led her along a 
narrow hall to the dining-room, moving with a 
swiftness, a certainty, that amazed the girl, who 
followed gropingly — clumsily, as she called it 
in her mind. 

When Hetty alluded to this, after lunch, 
after the doctor had taken himself off to his lec- 
ture, and she and her hostess were comfortably 
settled for the promised “gossip,” Mrs. Dennis 
explained it in this wise : “ Well, you see, I have 
lived on this floor for years,” she said, “and I 
know every inch of it — every piece of furniture, 
every ornament and picture. Nothing is ever 
changed, or left standing out of place, so I 
don’t get confused, or hurt myself by falling 
over anything. If my son even lays a new 
book or magazine on the table, he is sure to 
tell me of it — he is so thoughtful ! And he has 
described the rooms so often to me that I know 


i6o 


c/1 Little Turning Aside 


just how they look. I know where, on the wall, 
my dear husband’s portrait hangs, and where 
the old sofa stands — that sofa was the very first 
piece of furniture husband and I bought when 



My window-box.” 


we went to housekeeping — years ago. And I 
can easily find my way to the piano — my son is 
musical, and, when I can, I play his accompani- 
ments. Jap has even told me the color of the 


Unusual Experiences 


i6i 


rug-, the sofa cushions, the portieres. I am 
afraid he spoils his old mother. Now, come 
and be introduced to my window-box.” 

She guided Hetty’s fingers over her plants, 
naming each as she touched it ; and a few old 
treasured pieces of china and glass which she 
owned. The girl’s unaccustomed touch missed 
a great deal that was significant to her friend, 
but she enjoyed the older woman’s bright, 
clever talk, though, as before, frequently the 
subjects she touched on, the books she 
referred to, even the expressions she used, 
were unfamiliar to Hetty. And above all, 
Mrs. Dennis’s cheerfulness filled her with 
wonder. 

“ Oh, how can you ever be so — so — happy ? ” 
she exclaimed, involuntarily, when the merry 
turn of a sentence had drawn her into unex- 
pected, irresistible laughter. “ It’s awfully hard 
to be — well — half-way decent, even knowing 
I’ll get over this before — very long. But to be 

always blind — goodness ! ” She broke off 
11 


i 62 


<A Little Turning Aside 


abruptly, and her sentence was far from lucid, 
but Mrs. Dennis understood. 

She came and sat beside Hetty on the com- 
fortable old sofa. ‘‘My dear,” .she said ; a 
kindly, half-humorous little smile stirred the 
muscles around one corner of her mouth, “my 
wise old mother used to say that the highest 
kind of courage to cultivate was that which 
could keep one cheerful under all circum- 
stances. Not merely to be merry or gay, mind 
you, as the mood might take one, but consist- 
ently cheerful — in dark times as well as bright, 
under trials as well as joys. That was the 
quality of the courage she taught her children 
by her example. And by its help I have found, 
and do find, much to enjoy in my life, although 
I am blind.” 

“ I wish / could have that sort ofcouraofe,” 
Hetty said, with a heavy sigh ; “I mean that 
would last. I. used to think I was such a brave 
girl. I wasn’t afraid of things like the other 
girls in Pen like the other girls I knew.” 


Unusual Experiences 163 

She corrected herself quickly. “ And I never 
minded danger. But now — oh, I do get so dis- 
couraged ! ” Her voice quivered. 

Mrs. Dennis drew Hetty’s hand on her lap, 
and gently patted it. “ Yes, I know,” she said, 
sympathetically. “ There are different kinds of 
courage,” she continued, presently; “and I 
can’t help but think that the kind that patiently 
bears suffering or defeat or being misunder- 
stood is of a higher order than the daring 
which rushes into danger without a thought of 
consequences. It is very hard — no one knows 
that better than I ” — with a little tender pres- 
sure of her visitor’s fingers — “to attain the 
courage that enables one to wait with patient 
cheerfulness for that which is delayed from day 
to day, from week to week — perhaps for 
years. That line — 

‘ They also serve who only stand and wait, ’ 
has always appealed keenly to me. But one 
can attain that courage, dear child, by the asking 
— you know from Whom ? That was where 


104 


c/l Little Turning Aside 


my mother found her courage, and that is 
where I find mine from day to day — you 
remember ? — 

^ Keep Thou my feet ; I do not ask to see 
The distant scene ; one step enough for me. 

Lead Thou me on.’ 

There — with Him — you can find courage, too.” 

They sat in silence for a few minutes, the 
crentle touch of Mrs. Dennis’s hand on hers 

0 

gave Hetty a pleasant, restful feeling. Pres- 
ently she said, hesitatingly : “ If you don’t 
mind telling me — don’t you — don’t you ever 
wish, now, that you could have your sight 
back?” 

The fingers that were stroking hers came 
to a pause ; but the answer was not delayed. 
“Yes,” said Mrs. Dennis, quietly ; “there are 
times when I long to see my dear son’s face. 

1 know the color of his hair, his eyes — I have 
made him tell me — and I have passed my 
hands so often over his features that I think I 
know what they are like, but sometimes a great 


Unusual Experiences 


165 


yearning comes into my heart for an actual 
sight of him — even if it were for once only.” 
Her voice grew very wistful. “ And when that 
feeling comes,” she went steadily on, “for com- 
fort and fortitude, I set myself to thinking of 
the many blessings this blindness had brought 
me ” 

“ Blessings ! ” broke in Hetty, in surprise. 

“Yes, very real blessings — so many I can’t 
mention them all,” replied Mrs. Dennis, smiling 
— with both sides of her mouth this time. “ For 
one instance, take my reading. I used to read 
very rapidly, skim through a book, and forget 
it all just as rapidly. Now, in the evenings my 
son reads to me, and instead of forgetting, in 
the hours of his absence, I turn over in my 
mind all I have heard, and frequently get from 
it many comforting and helpful thoughts. So 
with my music ; I enjoy it twice as much as I 
did when I had my sight. I always memorized 
easily ; and now I play over those pieces with 
the greatest enjoyment. And it is such a hap- 


c/1 Little Turning Aside 


1 66 


piness to me that sometimes I can make up 
accompaniments to the violin music my son is 
so fond of. Besides these, there is another bless- 
ing — ” She paused a moment, then gave Hetty’s 
hand a quick, warm pressure. “Yes, I will tell 
you,” she said. “ It is my chief blessing, my best, 
for which I thank God every day, and many 
times in the day. It is the blessing of my 
dear, dear son, my Jasper. He is such a 
^ood man — so patient, so gentle and wise ; and 
so loving to his helpless old mother! ” Her 
voice was touched with deep feeling. “ He is 
quick-tempered, he is fond of amusements and 
gaiety — of people — yet never a sharp word 
has he ever given me ; and evening after even- 
ing he spends here — in this little room — with 
me for his sole companion. It was my blind- 
ness that led him to make a special study of the 
eye, and he is doing a beautiful, most helpful 
work in the world. Some other time I will 
tell you of the wonderful operations he has 
performed, of the wonderful cures which, with 


Unusual Experiences 167 


God’s mercy, he has wrought. Jasper has 
been son and daughter to me — strong and pro- 
tecting as a man, and with all the tenderness 
of a woman. My son,” such loving pride in 
her voice! “is a noble Christian gentleman! 
And sometimes I ask myself. Would he have 
been all this if my blindness, my helplessness, 
had not, in a way, appealed to the highest and 
best in his nature ? Then I thank God that my 
loss — it seems small then — has brought so rich 
a return.” 

An unusual emotion stirred Hetty ; as Mrs. 
Dennis finished speaking she caught the hand 
that had been smoothing hers between her two 
palms and pressed it impulsively against her 
breast. She could not have expressed the feel- 
ing that moved her ; and it was quickly suc- 
ceeded by embarrassment. “ I’m sure I wish I 
could see what blessing could possibly come 
out of this disappointment — this trouble of 
mine,” she remarked, hastily, putting her 
friend’s hand back on her lap. 


cA Little Turning Aside 


1 68 


Again that one-sided, humorous little smile 
stirred Mrs. Dennis’s lips. “ Let me tell you 
something that has given me comfort more 
than once,” she said. “ You know that our 
Lord Jesus Christ sent His twelve apostles — 
two and two — out on the first missionary jour- 
ney. Well ; do you remember how it was 
when they returned? They came back full of 
joy in the success of their undertaking. They 
had preached the Gospel, healed the sick, 
restored the dying to full health — even the 
devils had been subject unto them ; through 
the power given them by the Master. They 
were happy, elated— eager to tell Him their 
wonderful story, and to dwell on every detail. 
But that was difficult, well-nigh impossible to 
do, for a great crowd surrounded Him — an 
urgent, jostling, pushing crowd, full of pitiful 
want, of sorrow, disease and ignorance — clam- 
oring for His healing touch, imploring His 
divine compassion. Not much chance there 
to go over their story, the Twelve may have 


Unusual Experiences 


169 


thought — to dwell on the wonderful events of 
their journey, every detail of which they could 
tell Him again and again, without tiring. Per- 
haps when Jesus drew them into a quiet desert 
place for a rest, they thought their opportunity 
had come — that they should have Him to them- 
selves. But, no : you remember, even into the 
desert the people pursued Him ; in greater 
numbers, too. 

“I have wondered, sometimes,” Mrs. Den- 
nis spoke slowly, reflectively, almost as if think- 
ing aloud, “ if those apostles were not pro- 
voked ; if they didn’t say vSomething like this 
among themselves: ‘Why does He not send 
these people away, and let us talk over with 
Him the grand success of this, our first mis- 
sionary journey ? ’ Perhaps they grumbled — 

‘ Surely what we have to talk to Him about is 
of more importance than this greedy, rough, 
pushing crowd ! ’ They were only mortal, and 
we poor, short-sighted humans are very apt to 
believe that what we consider best for ourselves 


170 


cA Little Turning Aside 


is best. And yet, do you remember ? — through 
this interruption, through this little turning 
aside, which may have seemed hard to them, 
the Twelve came to be witnesses of that great 
miracle — the feeding of the five thousand ! ” 
Mrs. Dennis bent toward Hetty ; a sweet, 
earnest note came in her voice. “Oh, my 
dear,” she said; “can’t you imagine that the 
Twelve were always very glad, very thankful, 
for the delay which brought them such an 
experience? You see wherein lies the comfort 
of this story for me — don’t you? You under- 
stand what it means to you and me ? ” 

And, after a few minutes’ thought, Hetty 
answered, “It’s just as you said before — that 
what seems a trial may — well — turn out — a 
blessing. Isn’t that it? But what am I going 
to gain by this — this — ‘ turning aside’ — as you 
call it ? / think — anybody would — that I would 
have gained a great deal more, in every way, 
by just going on and winning the Paris Prize. 
No miracle is going to happen now — and 1 


Unusual Experiences 


171 


could’ve made so much of my life — with all 
those advantages.” 

“Oh, but you have not come to the place 
yet, where you can count the advantages of 
this delay to you,” Mrs. Dennis said, with a 
merry laugh. “I know nothing of your life 
before you came to the League — that part you 
have told me of yourself — though I fancy you 
are, as I was, a country girl. Nor shall I ask 
any questions. But, it may be — you know I 
have met you only twice, so I may speak wide 
of the mark — but it may be that this trial is to 
strengthen you in patience, in thoughtfulness 
for others, and to bring you to a knowledge of 
certain other high qualities which help a girl to 
be sweet and unselfish — lovable, as God meant 
her to be. If you had won the Prize, possibly 
you might have grown to be proud and con- 
ceited over your own success, and hard in your 
judgment of other people’s work. Who can 
tell? You might have grown so absorbed, so 
bent upon your own advancement as to have 


172 


c/1 Little Turning Aside 


no thought or care for the good of any one 
else. And that, I think, is to be in a pretty 
bad way ! You might have become all this ; 
but I don’t like to think that you ever could. 
This is all a ‘ perhaps ’ with me, you know. 
Now let me kiss you.” She reached out for 
Hetty’s face, and started as her cool fingers 
touched the girl’s flushed cheek. For the warm 
blood had flown to Hetty’s face as she listened 
to these last remarks. “ How hot your face 
is ! ” She drew the girl to her, and kissed her 
tenderly. “I shall ask no questions, dear,” 
she said, softly, “ never in any way try to force 
your confidence. But that by no means implies 
that I should not be glad to hear all you may 
care to tell me. And you may always be sure 
that I should do my best in the way of giving 
you comfort, counsel or help. Remember that 
you and I are friends ! Now,” in a lighter tone, 
as she rose from the sofa, “come over to the 
piano, and let me play you some of my old-time 
melodies. My son is very fond of hearing them.” 


Unusual Experiences 


173 


That visit was a wonderful experience for 
Hetty — in the new and varied impressions she 
received. In her entire confidence in herself, 
her absorption and satisfaction in her art, it had 
not occurred to her, until now, that her educa- 
tion might be deficient. Such a thought had 
never crossed her mind ; by good fortune rather 
than study she had got through the Pendleton 
village school, and had given no further thought 
to self-improvement, save in art. Had the sub- 
ject been presented to her, she would probably 
have said, with an impatient movement of her 
head: “Oh, I guess I know enough to get 
through the world — except in my work ! ” But 
before this visit was over a most uncomfortable 
misgiving had begun to impress itself upon her 
mind — that she was a very ignorant young 
person. 

Mrs. Dennis and her son were cultured, 
highly educated people, to whose happiness 
music and art were essential, and to whom 
books were as the breath of life. Their ideals, 


174 


cA Little Turning Aside 


their enjoyments, their manner of life, were 
strange to Hetty, their speech, with its shibbo- 
leths of reference, of quotation, was often unin- 
telligible. Very early in this first visit Hetty 
began to realize some deficiences of which she 
had not hitherto been conscious, and with the 
knowledge came an unaccustomed and very 
depressing humility of mind. 

But for all this she enjoyed her visit — to 
the extent of telling herself it was altogether 
the happiest time she had ever spent. There 
were those pleasant hours with Mrs. Dennis, 
when she was made to feel that a personal, 
tender interest was taken in her. There was 
the doctor’s coming in at dusk to sit and chat 
with his mother and herself before the bright 
open fire. Then, after the lamp was lighted, 
after dinner, there were “The Vision of Sir 
Launfal,” and the merry, quaint essay of Elia, 
which Dr. Dennis read aloud. 

Hetty liked the poem ; she listened with 
eager interest to every word, but she did not 


Unusual Experiences 


175 


think much of the essay. She had never heard 
of Charles Lamb ; and she was, at that time, 
incapable of appreciating his gentle, delicious 
humor as it deserved. Still, as a part of the 
evening’s programme, it was enjoyed. But the 
crowning delight of all came when Dr. Dennis 
brought out his violin and played for her. 

Brahms’s wild Hungarian Dances, Ruben- 
stein’s melody in F, the exquisite Volkslied, 
Derrotha Sarafan, Raff’s Etude Melodique — 
followed one after the other ; and Hetty sat 
with drooping head and listened. Except for 
hymn tunes, played on the little organ in the 
village church in Pendleton, she had known no 
music, and now the tender, pleading strains of 
the violin moved her almost to tears, filling her 
heart with strange, new feelings — yearnings 
that were near akin to pain. 


Chapter III 

On the Way Home 

^ I "^HAT visit to the Dennises marked an 
epoch in Hetty’s life ; it was, for her, the 
beginning of a liberal education. When she 
thought it all over in bed that night, it seemed 
to her that a wide gap separated her from the 
Hetty of that morning-before she had started out 
for Mrs. Dennis’s. How much she had learned 
in those few hours — of things to which she had 
hitherto given very little thought ; in fact, no 
thought at all ! New ideas, impressions, hopes, 
longings — too vague, some of them, to be even 
recognized — crowded upon her, stimulating yet 
intimidating. There was so much in the world 
beside painting, so much that one would like to 
do — to be ! A depressing feeling of thorough 
dissatisfaction with herself fastened itself upon 
Hetty, and gradually forced her thoughts back- 


On the Way Home 


177 


ward to a subject she had tried to put away, 
and would fain have forgotten. Back went her 
unwilling memory — beyond the hospital, beyond 
that awful Saturday when she was taken ill, 
still beyond — to Pendleton — to Aunt Drusilla ! 
Was she living? Was she dead? Hetty shiv- 
ered and hastily pressed her pillow over her 
ears to shut out the sound which rung in them — 
of an old woman’s weak, piteous sobbing. She 
would rather think of what Mrs. Dennis had 
said when they parted a few hours ago : “I am 
glad to have had you with me this afternoon ; 
I have enjoyed it ; and I hope you will come 
often.” 

But she had said something else as well, 
and that, too, came back to Hetty’s recollec- 
tion : “ Have faith and courage, dear child. 
Trust God, and do your duty bravely, in what- 
soever direction it may lie. Then all must be 
well with you.” 

“ Duty ! ” Hetty started up in bed. Was 
it she or Cara who had said that so loudly ? 


178 


c/1 Little Turning Aside 


Then her head sank back on the pillow. Was 
it “ duty” to — stay in — Pendl ? Her reflec- 
tions went no farther for she was away in the 
land of sleep ! 

There were many visits to the Dennises 
after this ; once a week, occasionally oftener, 
the doctor brought an invitation for Hetty, and 
escorted her to and from his home. It seemed 
to the girl that each time she enjoyed going 
there more and more. And so it really was, 
for her intelligence had awakened, and with it 
an eager desire for knov/ledge and a quickness 
of comprehension — an adaptability — which 
astonished her friends. Hetty’s was a mind 
naturally alert, receptive, and at this time, in 
the enforced isolation from her beloved art, 
every faculty seemed at its keenest. Very soon 
she came to understand and to appreciate much 
which at first had been like an unknown tongue 
to her. And as her mind expanded her soul 
began to grow. Mrs. Dennis’s warm, personal 
religion touched her heart ; and her son’s 


On the Way Home 


179 


straightforward, uncompromising honesty and 
singleness of purpose also had their effect. 
Mother and son lived up to a high standard, 
and the influence of their lives could not fail to 
be a power for good. As the days of her 
acquaintance with them lengthened into weeks, 
Hetty, at first, almost unconsciously, made 
brave efforts to be what she called “ a better 
girl.” 

She grew familiar enough with the apart- 
ment to find her way about it alone ; and those 
old-fashioned rooms became to her the happiest 
place in the world. There she learned what a 
home and a mother’s love might be ; and the 
affection she felt for Mrs. Dennis was almost a 
devotion. 

With the new interest that had entered her 
life, Hetty’s depression wore away ; she no 
longer brooded over her disappointment ; she 
even began to look forward with hope to her 
recovery. But there was something which still 
weighed on her mind, and grew heavier instead 


i8o 


c/1 Little Turning Aside 


of lighter as time went on Since the day that she 
had so positively refused to give any informa- 
tion of her past life, her relatives or home, Dr. 
Dennis had asked no further questions, nor did 
his mother ever refer to it. Hetty sometimes 
wished she would ; for the longer it was put off 
the' more she dreaded to open the subject, 
though feeling strongly that she should tell 
these kind friends of hers the whole story. 
Looking back on her conduct from the higher 
standpoint which she had now reached, Hetty 
found it more and more difficult to be satisfied 
with herself. What would Mrs. Dennis think 
of the way she had treated Aunt Drusilla ! Oh, 
how could she ever tell this mean thing of her- 
self, and lose the good opinion of her only 

friends ! And Dr. Dennis ! Hetty’s heart 

gave a great thump, and a , cold, sick feeling 
went over her. No ; she would not say any- 
thing about the matter just then — some other 
time would do quite as well. So she put off the 
evil hour from day to day, from week to week ; 


On the Way Home 


and when at last the story did come out, it was 
on the spur of the moment, withoht thought or 
premeditation. 

It happened on an August evening when 
Dr. Dennis was walking back to the hospital 
with Hetty after a pleasant day spent at his 
home. The mother and son and Hetty had 
sat on the little back stoop which led down into 
the yard, and had talked until the sun sank out 
of sight and the stars shone bright in the dark, 
blue firmament. It had been a very happy 
visit, almost the happiest, it seemed to Hetty 
afterwards, of her many happy visits with the 
Dennises. And when, on the way home, draw- 
ing her arm more securely through his own. 
Dr. Dennis had said : “ Suppose we extend 

our walk a little. I love the starlight of an 
August night ; and it is early yet ; ” Hetty had 
willingly agreed. While under his care her 
nervous fears were at rest ; she had grown to 
like these quiet evening walks and the talks 
which went with them. The doctor’s merry. 


i 82 


cA Little Turning Aside 


half-quizzical, half-satirical manner no longer 
annoyed her ; and when he dropped into a 
more serious mood, as he sometimes did, and 
told her earnestly of the things that lay near to 
his heart — of his love for his mother, of his 
profession and his hopes, his fears and ambi- 
tions, Hetty would be pleased and proud and 
have a happy, jubilant feeling for days after. 

He was in good spirits this evening, and 
brimming over with talk. He had performed a 
difficult and very successful operation that day, 
on the eyes of an old woman in the infirmary, 
to which he gave a portion of his time, and he 
told Hetty about it. “Poor old thing!” he 
finished ; “I feel so sorry for her — poor, old, 
suffering ; and utterly alone, she tells me ! It 
seems she has a daughter, or granddaughter — 
I’m not sure which it is — but when the old 
woman got to be a burden the unnatural crea- 
ture went off and deserted her. And she 
hasn’t bothered her head since to find out if 
the forlorn old soul is living or dead ! I can 


On the Way Home 


o 


forgive a great many things,” he added warmly ; 
“I’ve become calloused to them — but I caimot 
stand seeing an old woman ill-treated or neg- 
lected. I suppose that’s because of my 
mother.” 

And then, as it seemed to Hetty, without 
the slightest volition on her part, her mouth 
opened and certain words were uttered. 

“That is just what I did,” she said. She 
spoke in short, disjointed sentences, but with 
perfect distinctness — a vague wonder if the 
voice were really hers shot across her mind. 
“I came here to New York and left my old 
great-aunt stark alone ! — She wanted me to 
stay with her, but I refused. — She has been ill 
since ; and she sent for me, but I wouldn’t go — 
I never answered the letter Miss Fanshawe 
wrote about it — I burnt it up — I don’t know if 
Aunt Drusilla is living or dead. I am like that 
old woman’s granddaughter — I am unnatural. 
There — »now you know the whole truth! ” She 
felt him start violently and as he stood still she 


84 


cA Little Turning Aside 


pulled her hand out of his arm, and drew aside 
from him. She was trembling with nervous- 
ness ; but with all her agitation she was con- 
scious of a feeling of relief that at last the story 
was out. 

''You did that?” he exclaimed, incredu- 
lously, looking intently at the beautiful upturned 
face, out of which the color had faded. The 
brilliancy of the electric light which shone down 
upon them showed him the droop of her lips, 
and her shamed, troubled expression ; but 
when he spoke his voice was cold and with a 
curt note of reproof in it that was new in 
Hetty’s experience of him. “ When you refused 
to tell anything about yourself,” he said, “ I 
thought perhaps you had started into your art 
work against the advice of your friends — you 
told me you had no relatives — and that it hurt 
your pride to own up to them of your tempor- 
ary failure. I never supposed it was in you to 
do a thing like — this ! I thought you had more 
heart.” 


On the Way Home 


185 

That last sentence stung Hetty ; it stirred 
her to fierce anger. “ I don’t see why you 
should say that,” she flashed out. “I’m sure I 
have never posed for an angel, or a saint. I’m 
a mean, selfish girl ; I never pretended to be 
anything else — you must have seen that, scores 
of times. So I really can’t see why you should 
be so dreadfully disappointed in me ! ” Then 
her mood suddenly changed, the aching heart 
within her asserted itself, and reaching out a 
hand toward him she said impulsively, plead- 
ingly, “Oh, it was unkind of me — heartless — 
to go off and leave her ; and never to have 
found out if she were living or dead. I know 
it now — I’ve felt it — since I’ve seen how you 
and your mother love each other. But it 
didnt seem so wrong to me then — while I was 
doing it. She used to nag at me from morning 
until night ! And she hated my drawing — 
she wouldn’t let me do it — and Uncle Hiram 
was so severe — I was afraid of him!” She 
shuddered. 


i86 


cA Little Turning Aside 


‘‘They kept me down,” her breath was get- 
ting short — coming in little nervous gasps — 
‘•and thwarted me in everything I did that 
wasn’t after their narrow pattern ; I must be 
wrong — they couldn’t be ! They wouldn’t let 
me study art ; they wouldn’t even let me 
draw ; and I had to — I had to — it was more 
than meat or drink to me. Then — when uncle 

died, I — I — told — I ” she threw back her 

head and forced herself to be honest — “ I 
insisted on coming away. She — Aunt Drusie — 
begged me to stay ; but I felt as if I coiddri t ! I’d 
been longing to come to New York to study ever 
since I was a little girl — oh, I can’t describe that 
longing to you, it filled my heart — every thought 
of my mind — my whole life. I wanted to learn 
all I could— I wanted to paint a great, wonder- 
ful picture, and I coiddn t content myself to 
stay on in that horrid old Pendleton ! Then — 
when that letter from Miss Fanshawe came — I 
was competing for the Paris Prize — oh, I 
couldn’t — I couldn t^'' she threw out her hands 


On the Way Home 


187 


vehemently, “ go the^i and lose the Prize. I 
would have won it — I’m sure I should — if this 
illness hadn’t come in the way. And after that 
I wouldn’t have gone home for the world — to 
have those ignorant, hateful old gossips laugh 
at me — and say mean things ! I wouldn’t — I’d 
have died first ! ” Tears were running fast 
down her cheeks, and the hard, painful lump 
in her throat made her voice break at every few 
words ; her lips were working. 

Dr. Dennis bent forward and laid his hand 
on her arm. “ Poor child ! ” was all he said, 
but Hetty got comfort from it ; his way of saying 
it was like his mother, she thought. “ Come,” 
he added, “we will walk on.” 

He drew her hand again through his arm, 
and they turned hospitalward. And as they 
walked Hetty told him the story of her life. 
While she really tried to be honest in regard to 
herself, she certainly did not spare Uncle Hiram, 
his wife or the Pendleton folk. She put her 
case as strongly as she could, soon very con- 


cA Little Turning Aside 


scions of a horrible misgiving lurking at the 
bottom of her heart — her companion listened in 
such unbroken silence. 

“Now,” she said, persuasively, as she 
brought her story to a close, “do you blame 
me for leaving them all and coming to New 
York as I did? — to live my own life — to make 
something of myself? ” She waited anxiously 
for his answer. 

“You have certainly had a hard time of it,” 
replied Dr. Dennis, in such a dry, formal, non- 
committal voice, that Hetty’s heart sank still 
lower. 

“ But I’m sorry I’ve never answered that 
letter of Miss Fanshawe’s — I’m sorry I never 
found out about Aunt Drusilla. What do you 
think I should do ? ” she said, with feverish 
eagerness. 

“ Have you the slightest intention of follow- 
ing my advice should I give it?” he queried, 
abruptly ; he kept his eyes turned away from the 
upraised face that was so near to his shoulder. 


On the Way Home 


89 


“Why, of course I have,” declared Hetty, 
a little indignantly. 

“ Then I say — communicate at once with 
your aunt or Miss Fanshawe, whichever will 
bring you the quickest answer. I will write 
the letter for you, if you wish. And should 
your aunt be alive, go back to Pendleton, as 
soon as your eyes are well, and take care of 
her.” 

The sternness of his voice smote Hetty. 

“ IVhat! — go back to Pendleton to live!" 
she cried, incredulously, breathlessly. A sense of 
sharp disappointment came over her, of loss, 
of loneliness, such as she had never felt in all 
her lonely young life. “Go away from — here ! 
And bury myself alive in that hateful old Pen- 
dleton ! — Where not a creature cares one rap for 
me! No, no, no! I won’t do it ! I conldn t ! 
You don’t kuozv how tiresome — how nagging — 
how — how — ignorant and narrow — Aunt Drusie 
is. I wouldn’t be able to do a thing but just 
work — slave — from morning until night, doing 


190 


cA Little Turning Aside 


housework. I should never hear music — Yd 
never read a book, or hear it read. It would 
be the stupidest — the pokiest life ! — just a bare 

existence, like an animal’s ” She stopped, 

choked by her own vehemence. 

“I know it would not be easy, nor pleas- 
ant,” Dr. Dennis said, and now his voice was 
gentle, almost pleading; “but — if the poor 
old lady is alive — couldn’t you manage to stand 
the loneliness and all the other disagreeable- 
nesses for the little while longer she is likely to 
be in the world ? Really, you should — it’s a 
duty. I know my mother would say that to 
fulfil it is ” 

But Hetty would not allow him to finish the 
sentence. Jerking her arm out of his, she 
faced round, standing before him in the electric 
light, straight and tall and full of wrath. 

“Duty ! Go and live a wretched dog’s life 
for duty? I shall do nothing of the kind !” she 
declared, emphatically. She was very angry ; 
her head was high in the air, and Dr. Dennis 


On the Way Home 


191 



was convinced that had 
those heavy lids been 
lifted, her eyes would 
have flashed defiance 
at him. “I shall do 
nothing of the kind,” 
she repeated, firmly. 

“ If Aunt Drusilla 
dead and 
buried, she 
does 


' I shall do nothing of the kind,’ she declared, emphatically.” 


192 


(A Little Turning Aside 


not need me. If she is living and very ill and 
helpless, there are plenty of people in Pen- 
dleton who can take far better care of her 
than I ever could. When my eyes get well I 
shall stay here — ingJit here in New York — 
and continue my work at the League. You 
may think me a heartless wretch or anything 
else horrid that you please. I will not go to 
Pendleton ! ” 

“ Well, then, that settles the matter, and we 
need discuss it no farther,” remarked the doctor, 
coolly. “ Now we had better make our way to 
the hospital without delay, or the gates may be 
closed.” He did not offer his arm this time, 
but took Hetty by the elbow and guided her 
along the street. The rest of the way was 
traversed in unbroken silence, and Dr. Dennis 
left Hetty at the hospital door with a brief 
“Good-night” that was very unlike his usual 
kindly, merry leave-taking. 

Hetty cried through a good part of that 
night. She felt hurt, cut to the heart — ashamed 


On the Way Home 


193 


and very angry ; altogether more unhappy, she 
told herself, than she had ever been in all her 
life. Nobody cared for her — nobody ever had, 
nobody ever would. She had thought the 
Dennises did — that they liked to have her with 
them ; she had looked forward to still being 
close friends with them when she got well, 
when she took up her work again at the League 
— in fact, for all the rest of her life. It seemed 
as if she could not picture happiness and con- 
tent for herself without those two. And now 
Dr. Dennis was willing she should go away — 
had urged her to go to Pendleton and bury 
herself there with Aunt Drusilla ! Of course 
Aunt Drusie was alive — Hetty had a sudden 
conviction that she was. And if that letter 
that Dr. Dennis had offered to write was ever 
sent, Hetty felt sure Aunt Drusilla would 
immediately answer for her to come straight 
home. And that she would never, never do ! 
If the Dennises didn’t choose to notice her 
— why, they could do the other thing. She had 


194 


c/1 Little Turning Aside 


lived without them once, and she guessed she 
could again. Who cared ? She threw up her 
head defiantly ; then that sentence Came back 
to her — ‘‘ I thought you had more heart.” He 
had imagined her better than she was ! 
“I thought you had more heart.” Such a 
sense of shame filled her as she had never felt 
in all her life ; such a sharp remorse clutched 
her heart ! Her cheeks burned, all in the dark 
though she was, and scalding tears poured 
down her cheeks. “ I am sorry — I am sorry — 
I treated her so badly!” she sobbed. “But, 
oh ! I cant go back to that horrid place. Oh, 
I can’t — I cant!'" She caught her pillow, wet 
with her tears, tight between her two hands. 
“I will 7iot go back!” she declared. “I 
cannot ! ” 

By the inflamed condition of her eyes the 
next morning Dr. Dennis knew that a good 
many tears had been shed ; but while he was 
in her vicinity Hetty bore herself with anything 
but a sorrowful air and, save for the medical 


On the Way Home 


195 


treatment which she had to receive every day at 
his hands, she strictly avoided and ignored him. 

But at other times, when, his duties over, 
he had gone, she sat in the window-nook in the 
ante-room, or paced the yard with a gloomy, 
most dejected countenance. For the first time 
in her life she was considerine the interest of 
some one else before her own ; for the first time 
in her life she was, voluntarily, trying to put 
herself aside ; and she found it very difficult 
to arrive at any conclusion on which she could 
rest. To-day she felt it her duty to return to 
her aunt ; to-morrow it became equally a duty 
— to herself — to remain in New York and con- 
tinue her studies. So she vacillated from day 
to day — going over and over the same ground, 
and growing more and more unhappy, until her 
melancholy called out a remonstrance from the 
nurse under whose charge she was. Since her 
acquaintance with Mrs. Dennis Hetty’s gloom 
had slowly but steadily lightened, and finally 
vanished ; and her kind, patient nurse was more 


196 


(A Little Turning Aside 


than sorry to see the sad, hopeless expression 
settle on her face again. 

“You are not fretting about your eyes, 
are you?” she asked one morning, when this 
state of affairs had lasted for over a week. 
“ Because, really, you have cause only for 
encouragement. Your eyes are doing beauti- 
fully ! Dr. Dennis said this very morning that he 
wouldn’t be at all surprised if you got qziite 
well before any of us expected it. He is the 
best little doctor in the world ! And certainly 
he has worked faithfully over your case. He 
hasn’t seemed to get tired of it, as many another 
physician would — they don’t like those long, 
tiresome cases. Now don’t spoil all his good 
work by giving way to morbidness. You know 
you owe him a debt of gratitude — pay it, in 
part, by cheering up. You will very soon be 
well ; see if you don’t. Now come take charge 
of Joie and Minty for me. This rain keeps 
them indoors, and the poor youngsters are 
getting fretful.” 


On the Way Home 


197 


Hetty had been sitting in the window-nook ; 
thinking — going over and over the same old 
problem, and she only roused up enough to say 
listlessly, “I’ll take care of the children if you 
send them in here.” What did she care now if 
she got well to-morrow — to go to Pendleton — 
to Aunt Drusilla — to slavery ! No ! 

As the nurse left the room some other foot- 
steps came along the hall and paused at the 
door. Hetty knew those footsteps, but she had 
supposed that Dr. Dennis had left the hospital 
long before this. She knew he was standing in 
the doorway — perhaps he was looking at her, 
perhaps he would say something kind or merry 
as he had many a time before going for the 
day. But, no ; of course he wouldn’t do that — 
he was disappointed in her — he was angry. 
Perhaps Mrs. Dennis was angry, too — no invi- 
tation had come that week ! “I don’t care if they 
are mad — I won t go back to Aunt Drusie ! ” 
Hetty told herself But she could hardly resist 
the strong impulse to speak to Dr. Dennis, 


198 


c/l Little Turning Aside 


which came over her just at this moment. 
She had to clinch her hands tight in her lap 
to keep herself from obeying it. What was 
there to say ? She would 7iot go back ! 
But when, without a word, the little doctor 
began walking away — toward the front door — 
to go away, Hetty’s heart sank down, down, 
and a sudden, strange feeling of despera- 
tion seized her — as if this were her last 
opportunity. 

“ Dr. Dennis ! Dr. Dennis ! come back ! ” 
she called out, in a loud, ringing voice, that 
brought him instantly to her side. 

He found her standing in the middle of the 
floor ; her head thrown back ; one hand extended 
as if to secure his attention. 

“You offered to write to Pendleton for me,” 
she said, rapidly. “ Do it now — to-day — please ! 
Write to Miss Fanshawe — tell her if Aunt 
Drusilla is alive I — I — I will come — home — and 
take care of her — when my eyes are well. Do 
it at once, please.” 


On the Way Home 


199 


Dr. Dennis took the outstretched hand and 
held it between his own two palms. 

“You will do this ? ” he said, and there was 
that in his voice which sent a little comfort into 
Hetty’s heart. “You have counted the cost ? ” 
he asked. 

Hetty’s lips were trembling ; with difficulty 
they formed an answer, but her tone was vehe- 
ment. “ Yes ! yes ! yes !” she declared, nodding 
her head emphatically with each word. ‘ d know all 
it means — and I will go. W rite at once — to-day.” 

The doctor laughed — such a gay, happy 
little laugh ! “Ah! child, you don’t know how 
glad I am that you will do this ! ” he said. Then 
presently he added, gently : “ Yes, of course, I 
will write to Miss Fanshawe for you. Not 
to-day, but to-morrow afternoon, when you will 
be at our house and can tell me what you want 
said. Mother has not been well this week ; but 
this will make her all right — she will be so 
pleased to know it. She would like you with 
us to-morrow — you will come ? ” 


200 


<A Little Turning Aside 


For an instant they stood hand in hand 
without a word, then prancing feet and a shrill, 
whining voice announced the approach of Joie 
and Minty. 

“You will come? we are good friends 
again?” Dr. Dennis said — more in the tone of 
a statement than a question. 

“Yes — oh, yes!” answered Hetty, eagerly. 
Then he went away, and with a feeling of 
unusual lightheartedness, of content, Hetty sat 
down again in the window-nook and began tell- 
ing the children a story. 

The next day Dr. Dennis took Hetty to see 
his mother ; and that afternoon the letter to 
Miss Fanshawe was written. “ My dear, I am 
so glad you have concluded to do this,” Mrs. 
Dennis told her. “It is right you should — it 
is your duty. I only hope your aunt is alive ; 
that you may have the opportunity to show her 
some affection. Ah, my dear, you young 
people do not half know what your love — 
freely, spontaneously given — is to us older 


On the Way Home 


201 


ones. It is the sweet bond that binds us to our 
youth, and the large, high hopes and joys of 
youth. I think you will find that your aunt will 
be greatly touched by your offer to return home 
and be with her.” 

Hetty was not at all so sure of this, how- 
ever ; and it was a most significant sign of the 
change in her that she made no mention of her 
doubts on the subject. Though she had now 
fully made up her mind to go back to Pendle- 
ton if her aunt were alive, and to take care of 
her, the prospect did not look any more invit- 
ing than it had formerly. Aunt Drusie would 
be just as nagging, just as narrow, the people 
as interfering and ignorant, and the life more 
dreary than ever. But when a horrible sicken- 
ing consciousness of all this came over Hetty 
— as it did again and again — she would not 
give way to repining or vain regrets. Instead, 
with the same determination which had carried 
her through her work, she would set her 
teeth hard and say sternly to herself : “ You’ve 


202 


cA Little Turning Aside 


just £'ot to do it, Hetty Drayton ; and the least 
fuss you make, the better.” And very soon 
the high resolve, the unselfish purpose in her 
mind, put its impress on her face. A difficult, 
most trying task might be, doubtless was, 
before her, but, as she now recognized, only 
in the fulfilling of it lay peace of mind. Dis- 
content and selfish, gloomy brooding had 
greatly marred Hetty’s beauty ; but now her 
lips took their own naturally sweet curves, and 
the scowl which had sat so often between her 
eyebrows fled away, leaving her forehead 
smooth as it was white. Her whole expression 
changed, and from a pretty girl she rapidly 
developed into a strikingly beautiful and noble- 
looking woman. The nurses in the hospital 
noticed this change. Dr. Dennis’s sharp eyes 
did not lose it ; and in her travels to and from 
the doctor’s home many a passerby cast admir- 
ing glances at the lovely face which was made so 
pathetic by the heavy downcast lids with their 
curling lashes lying black against her cheeks. 


Chapter IV 

May I Come ? 

TwT ETTY had expected to hear from Pendle- 
ton in two or three days after writing ; 
but it was a couple of weeks — late in Septem- 
ber — before Miss Fanshawe’s letter came. 
And in the meantime something occurred which 
Dr. Dennis had been expecting, but which, 
after long waiting, was a great surprise to Hetty. 

Reaching the hospital one morning earlier 
than was his wont, Dr. Dennis met the head 
nurse in the hall, and the pleased expression of 
her face at once arrested his attention. 

“ I have a fine piece of news for you, doc- 
tor,” she exclaimed, before he could say a 
word. “ Miss Drayton’s lids are beginning to 
lift — they are almost half open ! And the poor 
child is delighted over it ! But she got so 
excited I had to make her lie down, and keep 

203 


204 


(A Little Turning Aside 


very quiet. She can’t believe this good state 
of things has come to stay.” 

A sudden deep red overspread Dr. Dennis’s 
face ; when he spoke, however, his voice was 
perfectly steady. “ Has she been out? No? 

Well, tell her 
to close her 
eyes tight — as 
u s u a 1 — a n d 
come to me 
here, in the 
hall. Tell her 

“ Dr. Dennis met the head nurse.” . 

peep until I give her permission. I will wait 
here for her.” 

He had not long to wait. In a few minutes 
Hetty came along the corridor with what had 
grown to be her usual slow, cautious step. She 
had a high color, and she looked — like Lowell’s 
Huldy — ‘All kin’ o’ smily roun’ the lips, an’ 
teary roun’ the lashes.’ 

“You have heard ? ” she asked, as he came 



May I Come? 


205 


forward and took her hand. There was a little 
quiver in her voice, but she did not raise her 
lids. 

“Yes, Fve heard,” was all he answered; 
but it did not strike her that he was wanting in 
sympathy. Presently he said : “ Mother will 
be so glad ! I knew it would all come right, 
but until lately I hardly dared hope it would be 
so soon. Now,” he added, in his merry way, 
“ I am going to lead you out into the yard — 
and don't you open your eyes until I give you 
leave.” 

With that new submissiveness which sat so 
gracefully upon her, Hetty let him lead her 
whither he would, which was to a part of the 
old courtyard from whence could be obtained 
the widest view of the clear blue sky. “You 
are in a direct line with the fine old elm that 
overtops the wall,” he said. “Look at that 
first, then at the firmanent above — I want you, 
in your first outlook, to get the best we have 
to offer. It isn’t like the country, but it’s the 


206 


cA Little Turning Aside 


nearest we can get to Nature here. Now — 
open your eyes ! ” He stepped quickly aside, 
and stood watching her. 

Hetty threw her head back — her lids were 
sdll heavy with paralysis — and looked eagerly, 
hungrily, at the full green top of the elm tree, 
where the leaves were shimmering in the bright 
September sunshine, and fluttering and dancing 
in the light breeze. Then her gaze went higher 
— above the tree-top, above the tall, dirty tene- 
ment houses to the blue vault of heaven, broid- 
ered here and there with delicate gossamer 
clouds. And as she gazed her face grew radi- 
ant ; to-day that one green tree-top, that patch 
of deep blue sky, represented all Nature to 
her, and it was fair to look upon. Oh, the 
bliss ! the rapture of living ! 

“Oh, how beautiful it is ? ” she exclaimed, 
throwing out her arms with an impulsive, girl- 
ish gesture of sheer delight. “ Oh, what a 
beautiful, beautiful world ! I am so thankful I 
can see ! ’’ 





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May I Come? 


209 


Then she turned and looked at Dr. Dennis, 
and he saw the unmistakable disappointment 
that swept over her face. 

For all that she had frequently heard the 
nurses refer to him as “ the little doctor,” and 
had realized in walking beside him that he was 
not tall, Hetty yet had not expected to find 
Dr. Dennis quite so short as he was. “ Not an 
inch taller than I am,” she told herself, swiftly ; 
though there she was mistaken. On the 
strength of his calm, decisive manner, the 
respect in which he was held in the hospital 
and the pleasant, refined voice which he shared 
in cominon with his mother, Hetty’s imagina- 
tion had drawn a very fine picture of her friend. 
But it was quite unlike the slender, red-haired, 
red-bearded little doctor, who wore his clothes 
so carelessly, and who now stood, with his 
hands thrust into his trousers’ pockets looking 
keenly at her out of his kindly hazel eyes — 
the one redeeming feature in his plain, clever 
face. 


210 


(A Little Turning Aside 


He reddened violendy under Hetty’s scru- 
tiny — though it was not long — answering the 
expression of her face with his little laugh and 
a careless, embarrassed, “Well — you see. I’m 
not much for pretty.” But when she still stood, 
with her head thrown back, looking at him 
without a word, his color faded. “ Well, I must 
be off,” he said, abruptly, and turning on his 
heel, walked hastily tow'ard the house. 

That brought Hetty to a quick realization 
of her rudeness, and she ran swiftly after him 
— oh, the joy of after the slow, cau- 

tious groping of nearly a year ! “ Dr. Dennis ! 
wait a minute! please wait a minute!” she 
called ; reaching him almost breathless with 
her rush across the yard. “Please don’t feel 
hurt — I didn t mean to be rude,” she assured 
him, eagerly, adding, honestly, if incoherently, 
“ I had such a different idea of you in my mind 
— and I was trying to get accustomed to you — 
as you really look. I hope you’re not hurt — 
you’ve been such a true, kind friend to me.” 


May I Come? 


21 I 


She held out her hand to him as she spoke, 
looking pleadingly up into his face. 

Dr. Dennis took the offered hand and 
held it, and the shadow left his brow. “ That 
the real article does not come up to your expec- 
tation is my misfortune, not your fault, eh?” 
he remarked, with the little laugh which had 
grown so familiar to Hetty. “ No, Tm not hurt. 
But — if that would please you, I wish I were a 

better looking specimen ” He broke off 

abruptly ; but perhaps his expressive eyes 
finished the sentence for him. “ Now go take 
a good constitutional in this pleasant sunshine,” 
he said, presently, in a professional tone, and 
letting Hetty’s hand drop. “ Stay out until it 
is time for your usual dose of electricity.” 

Hetty paced the sunny courtyard with a 
very happy face ; and once her great content — 
her jubilation — found vent in words. “ Oh ! ” 
she exclaimed aloud, stopping short, looking 
up with a radiant smile into the blue heavens 
above her, “isn’t it the most blessed thing in 


212 


cA Little Turning Aside 


all the world to be able to see the sunshine, 
and the trees, and sky, and — and — people’s 
faces ! ” There was nobody by to disagree or 
agree with her, but that mattered not ; her hap- 
piness was sufficient unto itself. 

A week or ten days later Miss Fanshawe’s 
letter arrived. Hetty was spending the day 
with the Dennises — now that she could make 
her way about alone Mrs. Dennis had her very 
often with her — and the little doctor himself 
took the missive from the postman and carried 
it into the sitting-room, where were his mother 
and Hetty. Except for a slight heaviness of 
the lids, Hetty’s eyes had regained their nat- 
ural appearance ; and now, as he handed her 
the letter, Dr. Dennis saw the apprehension 
that flashed into them. 

“I guess it’s the long expected,” he said ; 
then, glancing at it, “ Yes, it is postmarked 
Pendleton.” 

Hetty read her letter in silence, then handed 
it to Dr. Dennis ; she had grown pale, and her 


May I Come? 


213 


voice was unsteady as she said ; “ Please read 
it aloud. I wish Mrs. Dennis to hear it.” 

It was a kind letter. After expressing relief 
at having heard from Hetty, and sorrow for her 
illness, Miss Fanshawe explained that absence 
from home for her own health, and moving 
about from place to place, had occasioned a 
delay in Hetty’s letter reaching her. She then 
went on to say : “ Your Aunt Drusilla is still 
alive, though how long she may last is a seri- 
ous question. The poor old soul is entirely 
confined to her bed, and Dr. Elton gives no 
hope of her ever getting up again. She has 
grown quite childish, and Amanda Gibson has 
to give all her time to her. But Mrs. Slade 
asks for you constantly, and I am sure your 
presence would be a comfort to her. It might 
be well to come just as soon as your physician 
will allow, as your aunt’s term of life is draw- 
ing rapidly to a close.” 

A hush fell upon the little group when the 
reading of the letter was finished ; then Hetty 


214 


cA Little Turning Aside 


asked, slowly, with a great wistfiilness in her 
voice : “ Am I well enough — to go — in a few 
days ? ” And just as slowly — reluctantly — Dr. 
Dennis answered : “Yes — you are almost well 
— you could get along now without medical 
aid.” 

Mrs. Dennis, who sat on the sofa beside 
Hetty, reached out, and, drawing the girl’s 
hand to her lap, began stroking it with a ten- 
der, loving touch, while her son looked at them 
both with sombre eyes. 

Presently he roused up : “ Oh, by the way,” 
he exclaimed, “ I forgot to tell you — Mr. Bryce 
has got back from Europe. I met him on the 
street to-day. He passed me with a bow, then 
came back to talk about you. Miss Drayton. 
He is just as enthusiastic over Art as he ever 
was ; and he bade me tell you that your place 
at the League is open for you, and that he will 
be very glad to see you there again.” Looking 
keenly at Hetty as he spoke, he saw the bright 
color spring to her cheeks ; the brilliant sparkle 


May I Come} 


215 


that flashed into her eyes. She sat up straight 
— eager, alert, her whole face kindling. “ Ah ! ” 
she cried out, breathlessly, smiting her palms 
sharply together, “ my dear,, beautiful work ! 
Oh, how I should love to take it up again ! And 

instead ” The tears came in a rush ; and 

with a swift movement she turned her back on 
her friends, and buried her face in the old sofa 
cushion. 

“ Oh, Jap, my son, how could you tell her 
that to-night ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Dennis, in a 
reproachtui undertone. 

But Hetty heard it, and Dr. Dennis’s reply 
as well : “ Mother, I had to. I was told to 
deliver the message this evening.” Then he 
went and stood beside the sofa. “ Don’t fret 
about your work, Hetty,” he said, in a gentle, 
pleading tone that made his mother long to see 
his face. “You are really not yet fit to go in 
for the League — for hard work. You are not 
strong enough. And, if you are careful not to 
overdo the matter, you could keep up your 


2i6 


cA Little Turning Aside 


drawing at Pendleton — a little every day — until 
you get your strength back. You won’t be 
losing. And think of that poor, helpless old 
woman up there in the country — her days are 
numbered ! ” He put out a hand and with a 
touch that was as tender as his mother’s, 
smoothed the bright hair lying against the faded 
cushion. 

Perhaps that touch helped Hetty, perhaps 
it stirred her courage, for she sat up suddenly 
— her long lashes were wet, and tears were on 
her cheeks — and said, bravely, if unsteadily : 
“ Oh, I am going — I never thought of backing 
out. I’ll go just as soon as you say I may ; and 
I will try to be kind and good to Aunt Drusilla 
— to be patient.” 

“We know you will, you dear child!” 
exclaimed Mrs. Dennis, warmly. “You will 
fulfil your duty to your aunt — you will do all 
you should. And the Lord, who seeth all 
things and knoweth the heart. He will reward 
you by and by.” 


May I Come? 


217 


But Hetty bent eagerly forward, throwing 
out her hands in disclaimer. “ No ! oh, no !" 
she said, vehemently. “ I shall never deserve 
a reward — I shall never receive any ; for I am 
not doing this willingly. I might as well tell 
the truth. I don’t want to go — I don’t want to 
go ! I want to stay right here, and go on with 
my work — and — and be with you all. I’m only 
doing this because it’s my duty — because I 
know I should do it. And God doesn’t care 
for that sort of service. You yourself told me 
that He loves a cheerful giver ! ” 

*' ‘ Son, go work to-day in my vineyard ; he 
answered and said, I will not ; but afterward he 
repented and went,’ ” quoted Mrs. Dennis, 
softly. “ And in going he did the will of his 
Father which is in heaven. And his service 
was accepted.” She stooped over and kissed 
Hetty. “ Cheer up, my dear,” she said, in 
her bright, comforting way. “Do what you 
know to be right, and leave the rest with 
God.” 


2I8 


c4 Little Taming Aside 


About a week later, on a beautiful, crisp 
October morning-, Hetty went back to Pen- 
dleton. 

As the precious last days slipped away, it 
required more and more courage to carry out 
her resolution. She found that she had grown 
very fond of the ugly old hospital, of the cheer- 
ful, busy nurses — even Minty grew dear to her ; 
and when it came to bidding Mrs. Dennis 
good-bye she broke down completely. 

“ Oh, you have been so good to me — so 
dear and sweet ! ’’ she sobbed, with her arms 
around her friend. “ I love you ! Oh, when I 
look back — ! you have taught me so much ! I 
was such an ignorant, headstrong, selfish girl ! 
I can see it now. And I would have been all 
that yet, if I hadn’t met you.” 

“And if you hadn’t lost the Paris Prize — if 
you had not been ill — we should never have 
known each other,” Mrs. Dennis gently re- 
minded her. “See? Ah! my dearie, do you 
begin to understand some of the meaning of 


Mdy I Come? 


219 


this little turning aside of yours ? Truly, ‘ God 
moves in a mysterious way his wonders to per- 
form ! ’ Do you begin to see the silver lining 
of the dark cloud? Would you, now, call your 
illness a ‘ punishment ! ’ ” 

Hetty was deeply moved by the earnest, 
tender voice ; she longed to speak out all that 
was in her heart — to show this lovable, gracious 
Christian woman all that she had been, and 
was, to her. But a sudden diffidence came 
over her ; the words refused to be spoken. 
Snuggling her face down in her friend’s neck, 
she pressed her lips against the soft, faded 
cheek. “ I shall never forget what you have 
said about it,” she whispered, shyly. “And I 

shall try ” She could say no more. But 

Mrs. Dennis understood all that those broken 
sentences were meant to convey. For a minute 
or two they stood, with their arms about each 
other, in a silence too full of feeling to be 
broken. 

“ I may not ever see you again,” Hetty said. 


220 


cA Little Turning Aside 

presently, in a steadier voice, though very 
sadly ; “but I love you, and I shall never forget 
you.” 

That one-sided, tenderly-humorous little 
smile of Mrs. Dennis stirred her lips. “ I am 
glad you love me, for I love you,” she said, 
affectionately. “And, do you know,” rubbing 
her chin against Hetty’s bright hair, “ / have a 
feeling that we — you and I — shall be together 

again one of 
these days ; 
and see a great 
deal of one 
another, too. 
And, s o m e - 
times, my ‘feel- 
ings ’ come 
true. So cheer 
up ! In the 
“ Good-t'ye” meantime, 

send me a letter whenever you have leisure for 
it — every week, if you can. And I will answer 



May I Come? 


221 


it by Jap — he is my amanuensis, you know. 
I shall miss you sorely, tall girl ! ” 

“ Mother — Miss Drayton — time is up ! ” 
declared Dr. Dennis, coming hurriedly into the 
room. “ I am afraid you and I will have to 
‘ rush ’ for that train, Miss Hetty.” 

But his watch must have been fast, for after 
all, when Hetty was seated in the car, and her 
few belongings had been comfortably arranged 
for her, there were still a few minutes left before 
starting time. So Dr. Dennis sat down by her 
and chatted. 

He talked fast, and seemed in good spirits, 
such good spirits, in fact, that Hetty felt hurt. 
“He isn’t a bit sorry that I am going away — 
after all these months ! ” she thought, and a 
heavy depression stole over her. 

As the minutes fled swiftly away her words 
grew fewer and fewer, until the doctor had 
the conversation entirely to himself She 
could not talk. Her hands grew cold, and a 
horrid, choking lump got into her throat. “A 


222 


c/l Little Taming Aside 


few minutes more — just one or two — ” she 
told herself, gazing with unseeing eyes out of 
the car window, “ and he’ll say good-bye, and go 
away!” She wanted to thank him for his 
many kindnesses — his great patience with her ; 
to tell him how much she appreciated all he 
had done for her. But not one word would 
come — she was tongue-tied. “He will think 
me the rudest — the most uncouth, ungrateful 
creature ! ” she thought, miserably ; her heart 
heavy as a stone in her bosom. “He will be 
glad to forget me- ” 

“ Hetty,” said Dr; Dennis, at her elbow, “ I 
think you might turn and give me at least a 
glance — we’ve only one minute more ! ” He 
shut his watch with a snap and dropped it into 
his pocket. 

Something unusual in his voice made Hetty 
turn her head quickly. She was surprised to 
find that he had grown quite pale ; and as for 
the expression in the eyes that met hers — it 
made her heart give a sudden leap, and sent the 


May I Come ? 


223 


rosiest blushes all over her face — to the roots 
of her bright, wavy hair, to the tips of her 
pretty ears ; and immediately down fell the 
heavy lids over her eyes — perhaps, lest they 
also should tell tales. 

“ Hetty,” whispered the little doctor, hur- 
riedly — a nervousness in his manner that 
might have astonished some of his learned 
colleagues, “ I hope to have a holiday — a day 
or two — at the end of this month. May I come 
to Pendleton to see — ” in spite of his earnest- 
ness a roguish smile fiitted over his lips — “to 
see Aunt Drusilla ? Will you — ” he bent for- 
ward and looked eagerly, intently into the 
downcast face — “will you give me a welcome 
if I come ? ” 

Swiftly Hetty’s lids went up, and shyly yet 
frankly she met the honest, loving brown eyes 
bent upon her. A radiant, wondering smile 
curved her lips. “ Oh ! ” — she exclaimed ; then, 
in a slow, happy whisper, “ Yes — yes — come ! ” 

A stout, belated commercial traveler, drop- 


224 


(A Little Turning Aside 


ping panting into his place in the car, immedi- 
ately became interested in the couple ahead of 
him. He was just in time to catch a word or 
two — eager, glad, hurried words — spoken in an 
undertone — breathlessly — beginning, “ Ah ! — 

you dear ! ” and to see an ugly, red-haired, 

red-bearded little man stoop quickly and kiss 
the forehead of “ that mighty pretty girl ” in 
the next seat. 

“ All aboard ! ” shouted the guard. The 
cars gave a violent jerk or two, and Dr. Dennis 
barely swung himself to the ground, when the 
train steamed rapidly out of the station, bear- 
ing Hetty away with it. 






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